Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake's Beginnings
by SirWill
Summary: BtvS,Metal Gear Solid,Stargate crossover. In 2006, Roy Campbell recruits a retired Solid Snake for the Stargate program. In 1998, the Mayor's Ascension triggers a chain of events that creates the legendary Solid Snake.
1. Chapter 1

Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake's Beginnings Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters that I may mess and toy with in this story. I may own a few OC's, most notably those one time characters, but more often their concepts will be based on something else not my own. So don't bother bugging me about this stuff, okay?

Once, a long, long time ago, I swore to myself that I would never do a soldier-Xander story, nor a hyena-Xander story. Not because the stories are bad, but because the plot devices are used so often. I have read many good stories with either theme, or even both, but I've also read a lot of them where both possessions just woke up for the author to give Xander a sudden easy burst in power. In Fury of the Beast, I deliberately avoided using either device. If becoming a vampire isn't good enough, and trying to deal with it, then it's not really worth it. Xander was never intended to be the power-hitter, but much more of an organizer and a leader, lead not by muscles but strength of will that he would develop.

Then I played Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater. It woke up a plot bunny. Despite my best efforts (Including shotguns, landmines, nuclear weapons, and poisoned carrots) it just would not go down. This is an attempt to get rid of it, perhaps in vain, but regardless, here it goes.

Very AU, and a crossover involving Buffy, Stargate, and Metal Gear Solid. References to Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater included.

* * *

Twin Lakes, Alaska, 2006 

The wind bit harshly at the lone figure, treading on his snowshoes towards the cabin in the distance. The cold air had literally turned the scarf tightly wound around his face white, due to the freezing of the moisture from his breath.

He was glad he wouldn't be spending much time out in this cold. That is, if his old friend would actually let him in, and not simply shoot first and forget about asking questions at all. He could hear the sled dogs in the area, yelping and barking in his direction, although he couldn't quite see them with the goggles on.

'_Why the hell did I decide to walk in on foot, rather than just landing near the cabin? Right, because if I did, he wouldn't even bother to ask questions and we'd never find him at all. He knows the area intimately after three years up here.'_

The dogs increased the volume of their yelping, and the cabin door opened, a figure stepping out into the dark Alaskan night and pointing a shotgun at him. He rose his hands slowly, making no sudden moves.

"Snake, calm down. Can I come closer?"

The figure, upon hearing the rough, familiar voice, narrowed his eyes and stood up slowly, stepping back into the cabin. He nodded, setting the shotgun aside and yelling into the wind. "Come on in if you can, Colonel."

Colonel Roy Campbell, retired, gratefully (if awkwardly) walked forward on the snowshoes to the cabin, closing the door and unwrapping his heavy winter clothing. While the cold Alaskan night had sucked away quite a bit of the heat inside, the large fire in the fireplace was quickly making up for that. Some of the sled dogs inside were happily chewing on bones, glancing at him almost suspiciously.

Here and there, there were the works of a carpenter. There were several figurines of people in marvelous detail. An older man with a grim expression, a tiny female figure holding something sharp, like a dagger perhaps. Another pair made out of a singe piece of wood, hands together. A male figure draped in a robe or a duster, that looked like it had been repeatedly poked all over with a needle.

Taking a deep breath, Roy examined the man he'd come a few thousand miles to see. The man who, in military elite circles, was a living legend. Solid Snake.

He was now in his late twenties, his brown eyes as cold as the Alaskan winter outside. They softened a bit upon seeing Roy again, but it had seemed as if something important to Snake had been taken away at some point. He turned to his cooler, fishing out a couple of beers and holding one out for Roy. "Want a beer, Colonel?"

Roy smiled a bit. "Snake, I'm not a colonel anymore." He still took the beer from Snake's outstretched hand though.

Snake actually grinned a bit. "Have it your way...Colonel." He moved over to one of his chairs, also seemingly hand-made. "Go ahead and sit down, Colonel. Something tells me this isn't just a social call." He opened the bottle, taking a swig and examined Roy carefully.

Roy nodded, opening his own beer and taking a grateful drink. He let the taste wash over his tongue, trying to frame the orders he'd been given in a way Snake would accept. "Snake, I've been asked by the President and the Joint Chiefs to offer you a job. Something's come up in the Air Force recently, and I think they can benefit from your experience."

Snake just rose an eyebrow. "I'm no longer affiliated with FOX-HOUND, Colonel. You're not my commander anymore. Why come to me with this? I'm retired. For that matter, so are you."

Roy nodded again. "We've already assigned two members of FOX-HOUND to the place in question, One of them got killed on a mission, the other was badly wounded in combat and is currently recovering, though she won't be in good condition for a month or so. That's when I was asked to approach you, Snake. They were going to send somebody else, but they contacted me first, and I told them you wouldn't listen to just anybody."

Snake took another drink of his beer, scratching his chin. Roy could almost tell what Snake was thinking at this point. What could be so dangerous in whatever mission the Air Force was in that would take two FOX-HOUND members out of action? Almost by definition, FOX-HOUND members were one-man armies. A single operative was often good enough to handle just about anything that came their way.

Snake himself was almost the model of the perfect FOX-HOUND commando. Only one other man had been better than he was, and that man was killed during Snake's last mission. Gray Fox. Riley Finn. By Snake's own hand.

Finally, Snake spoke lowly. "So what's this offer about, Colonel? You wouldn't come to me and break my retirement just because some newbie stepped on a landmine."

Roy nodded again, taking a drink from his beer and opened his jacket, pulling out a slightly warped vanilla folder, stuffed to the brim with files. "Snake, do you remember two bright lights in the sky about eight months ago?"

Snake nodded. "Yeah. It was a little hard to miss. I was out with the dogs that day."

Roy smirked, opening the folder and handing Snake the first file. "Well, read for yourself, Snake."

Taking the file with a skeptical look, Snake quickly looked at it and bit his lip. He narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Two alien ships, huh? I've gotta commend the Air Force's operatives for moving fast enough to take them out."

Roy nodded. "Yes, but even so, they got lucky. Hence why FOX-HOUND members were assigned to their command. Still, Senator Kinsey is opposed to them, and we need to do what we can to get decent technology from the aliens and to do our covert missions. We're at a big disadvantage here Snake. They're way ahead of us, and the only reason we haven't been ground into the dust already is because the aliens fight each other more often than they fight with us. Still, it'll only be a matter of time before they come here and nuke us back into the Stone Age."

Snake grunted. "All right, Colonel. You've made your case. How do you plan to put me under this.." He checked the file again. "General Hammond's command? It's not like I have a rank the Air Force would recognize."

Roy nodded again. "You'll be assigned a rank of Major, to be promoted at General Hammond's discretion. You'll also have a lot of leeway, Snake. You'll get a large salary, plus danger pay of course. We tried to get Master Miller to come to help with the training, but he's unavailable."

Snake shook his head. "Don't worry, I can take care of that end, assuming I don't just trip and break my neck or something."

Roy just smiled. Snake was about as likely to die by such a mundane accident as being hit by a lightning bolt. While fighting a helicopter. With nothing but tissue papers. And winning.

Considering Snake's skills, however, it was entirely possible that absurd event just might take place.

Snake stood up and bundled up a bit, whistling to his dogs. They came towards him immediately, and he fondly patted their heads as they licked at his hands. "We'll take my sleds back to town, Colonel. It'll be a lot faster and a lot more comfortable than trudging back to your chopper. Besides, I'm not about to leave my dogs out here alone."

Roy smiled, finished off his beer and set the bottle down on the floor. He stood up and looked at his dripping wet scarf with some distaste. Then he looked back at Snake and smiled a bit. "Well, I'm just glad you accepted, Snake. I'd feel a lot better with you working on our little problem out there, even with FOX-HOUND already tangled in the mess."

Snake just shrugged. "Why not, Colonel. I might as well do something useful. I'm getting a bit bored carving furniture and little carvings. Speaking of which.."

With an almost evil grin, he picked up the little figurine that had been poked all over (usually in painful places, Roy noted as he saw it a bit more closely) and hurled it into the fire. He carefully picked up the other ones and stuffed them into his pockets.

"What was that about, Snake?" Roy asked, quite amused.

Snake just shook his head, picking up his bandana and tying it around his forehead. "I made that little figurine as a bit of a revenge on somebody I didn't like back in High School, Colonel. The others are reminders of my friends, but I just kept that one around and needled it because I never got the chance to do it to the real guy back in the day."

Roy laughed. "I never knew you were into voodoo, Snake."

Snake just grinned as he put on a pair of silly-looking earmuffs. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Colonel. Besides, this new job may be quite fun. As long as I don't need to take on any fifty-foot snakes, cyberdemons, or nuclear-equipped walking battle tanks, I just might have a lot of fun with all this."

As Roy tried to puzzle out the meaning of THAT statement, he followed along behind Snake to the sleds.

* * *

Sunnydale, 1998 

Deep underneath the Lowell House in the Sunnydale campus, there was a great deal of activity. The location would, within a month or two, be completely prepared for the purpose of capturing, studying, neutralizing, and perhaps if they were lucky, even controlling some of the supernatural foes that ran around this city. At least, that was the hope of the NID.

That was also the hope of the one-eyed elderly man, although for very different reasons.

He walked past construction crews that were carefully filling in concrete, turning this natural cave into an Army base that would also double as a self-contained research facility. Some of the soldiers saluted him as he passed them by. It wasn't hard to see why. Even without his uniform, he would be an imposing figure. In it, he was someone who commanded respect without even a glance.

Spotting the person he was looking for in the area that would eventually become the holding cells, he strode forward, ignoring the slight ache in his legs. He frowned to himself. Thirty-four years since Operation Snake Eater and his arm still hurt in cold weather, nevermind all the other scars on his body from that mission.

Doctor Walsh turned and took him in. He knew this woman's opinion of him was low, no doubt thinking he was just some dumb bureaucrat who'd played a little too much with knives as a kid and poked out his own eye, but he didn't bother to correct her.

"General Hayter, what can I do for you?" She spoke neutrally. He almost smirked. He knew she needed his backing to be in charge of the project, and she knew it too. He was the only one that could run an effective screen between the NID proper, and get the right people in from the Army for the muscle.

"I'm quite interested in your project, Doctor Walsh. I'm just here to tell you I've arranged for my best men to assist you in this endeavor. They're quite a bit better than most of the green recruits you'll get, and these two will bring your men up to speed as fast as possible." He spoke, secretly enjoying the surprised expression on her face.

"Why thank you, General. This is quite generous of you." She smiled at him. He made a little smile in return, knowing that as soon as she was out of his sight, she'd start doing extensive background checks on his men. "What are their names?"

"Lieutenants Riley Finn and Graham Miller. They've already been given complete clearance, but they'll operate completely under your orders, doctor." He made a mischievous little smile, a little intimidating because of his eyepatch. "I'd appreciate it if you brought them back to me in one piece when you're done, Doctor Walsh."

Maggie Walsh smiled a bit and nodded. "Very well, General. I'll bring them completely up to speed when they arrive."

He nodded. "We're done here then." He turned and made his way out of the facility, taking a cigar out of one of his pockets and lighting it as he went. Filthy habit, but he liked it and really didn't mind. He never really expected to live this long anyway, he was going to enjoy himself.

Reaching his Jeep, he got into the back seat, glancing at both Riley and Graham who were sitting in the front. At least, that's who they were out here.

Within High-Tech Special Forces Unit FOX-HOUND, they were the two top-ranking and best soldiers he'd ever had the pleasure of commanding and shaping. Riley was the only one to ever beat his performance guidelines, set when the one-eyed man was in his prime. Graham came under it by a small margin.

They had in every sense of the word, earned their code names. Gray Fox and Silver Snake. It didn't hurt that they had known each other since before joining FOX-HOUND either.

"How'd it go, Boss?" Riley spoke, looking at him in the rear-view mirror.

General John Hayter to the world, Big Boss to those in FOX-HOUND, just kept smoking his cigar. He finally replied after a few moment's thought. "She's going to be suspicious of you both for a while. You'll just have to act like a pair of country boys for a few months. Do your best to improve the men under her command, but keep your eyes open and report everything to me. I'm going to have Ocelot be your liaison with FOX-HOUND. He's old enough to look like one of those farts who just want to retire in California."

Riley shared a grin with Graham. Ocelot may have been old, but he'd still shoot someone faster than they could blink, even with antique guns. "Got it, Boss. If she gets out of hand?"

Big Boss shrugged. "Just have her killed. Try to hold it off until after you see if her research holds up though. If she's actually onto something, we might not be able to afford to lose her." He absently ran his fingertips over his eyepatch, thinking back to the day he'd lost his eye, in Russia.

"Sir?" Graham spoke, looking a little concerned.

Big Boss shook his head. "Just get me to the airport, you two can handle yourselves here. And for God's sake, don't piss off Ocelot...too much." He smirked to Graham, getting chuckles from both younger men.

Just another year, and Outer Heaven would be ready. Hopefully, Walsh's findings would prove useful there.

* * *

If you guys would like for me to continue this fic, let me know. I'm working on Fury of the Beast's final chapter at the moment, but your responses will help me figure out which one I want to spend more time on. 

Have fun all.

Nick.


	2. Ascension

Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake's Beginnings Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Come on, who's actually reading these? You know I own nothing.

Well, since the fans have spoken, here we go. That plot bunny is still hopping, folks. If anybody's wondering, I pushed the Stargate timeline forward, so Stargate: SG1 season one starts in late 2004 and takes up most of 2005. The movie takes place in 2003, because of that. Hence, Snake is asked to join the Stargate program in season 2, before they get all the really neat alien tech, when they could really use that kind of help. They've got a few zats, two deathgliders from the failed Apophis attack, a Goa'uld ribbon device, and that's it.

* * *

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, 2006

Side by side, Roy Campbell and the man he only knew as Solid Snake waited for General Hammond. Snake busied himself by looking around the office, noting the red phone, the other normal phone, some of the pictures and things that General Hammond had collected over the years.

The door opened and a short bald man walked into the room, giving Roy and Snake both an apologetic smile. "Sorry I'm late, something came up with one of my teams."

Snake nodded with a slight smirk. "No problem. I don't mind waiting too much, I've had a lot of practice."

Hammond stuck his hand out, and Snake grasped it. "I'm Major General George Hammond, in charge of this facility. I'm told you've been asked specifically to come in and help us with out. I'm looking forward towards working with you, Mister Snake."

Snake grinned. "Hey now, we don't want just everybody to know who I am, hm? I'll never get any sleep around here if I have to deal with people asking me for autographs. I just did what I had to do back then, that's all."

Roy laughed lowly in his rough voice. "Don't worry General, Snake's a grunt. He's been given the rank of Major under your command and we've filled out all the arrangements for him to be a tactical consultant and combat specialist."

Hammond nodded. "Well, I'll have to introduce you to my leading team, and we'll have to run you through a physical as well. How should I call you, if you're not going to be called Snake at large out here anyway?"

Snake shrugged. "When I was busy filling out all the identification forms I used my real name. My reasons for anonymity aren't relevant anymore." He made a snappy salute. "Major Alexander Harris reporting for duty." His posture was nearly perfect, only slightly marred by his grin.

Hammond smiled. "No need to salute me too much, son. We run things pretty informally around here, though we do keep it tight." He grinned widely now, a twinkle in his eye. "Wait until you meet my second-in-command. You'll like him, assuming he doesn't drive you insane that is."

Snake grinned. "I'm sure I can handle it."

Roy grinned to both. "Well then, I'll be off. I need to go and spend some time with my niece, if you two don't mind."

Hammond nodded to Roy. "Very well. Enjoy your retirement, Colonel." He turned to Snake then. "Welcome to Stargate Command, Major Harris."

* * *

Sunnydale, 1998 

Graduation Day. Xander had been dreading it.

Most teenagers his age only had to deal with monsters in their normal, metaphorical, or at worst, not-nice normal people. They usually didn't have to deal with the not-nice person in question threatening to turn into a big demon of whatever type and deciding to literally eat the victims.

Yet, this is exactly what was about to happen, in less than an hour. 'Key guy' or not, he was nervous. Any one of a hundred details could be off. The soldier memories he picked up during Halloween weren't perfect, but it would have to be enough. He was sure he made the makeshift bomb correctly, however he wasn't sure it would actually be enough for this demon the Mayor was planning to change into.

A big boom by man-made explosives does not a pyroclastic cloud make, after all.

Luckily, he'd been able to convince the students to arm themselves. One group would work on distracting the Mayor and the other would fight back against the lines that would try to come in and seal off the event. He was hoping fervently that the muscle would be vampires. During the eclipse they'd be able to work, but if the Mayor used demons instead, this could get ugly.

So many what-ifs, each of them something that could go terribly wrong. There wasn't anything else he could do, though. The course was set.

He couldn't help but grin at the thought of blowing up the school. What teenager didn't want to literally destroy the place? The only tragedy was, in his opinion, not doing it sooner!

Well, there was the opportunity with the zombies a little while ago, but that would have meant world-endage, which would have been bad. Very bad. Like chocolate sauce on pizza bad.

As the Mayor started giving his speech, he sat back and waited, until he realized the Mayor was really, horribly and grotesquely evil on a level he'd never realized before.

Because the Mayor planned to actually give the whole speech.

He caught Buffy's comment on the edge of his hearing. "Hurry up and Ascend already." And he couldn't help but grin.

He didn't pay any attention to the speech. He really didn't care that Sunnydale was born a hundred years ago this day. He was just wishing all this would be done and over with, whatever the results. He had to put it all out of his mind right now if there would be a chance of coming through this. Tomorrow will care for itself.

The sky began to darken, and that's when Xander blinked and began to pay more attention. This was the signal to begin the new festivities.

Mayor Wilkins halted mid-speech, groaning with pain. Then he straightened up, breathing heavily with an exultant look on his face. "Well, since we're a bit ahead of schedule, let's just skip to the big finish!" He placed both his hands on the podium, his body beginning to distort and twist, his skin tearing and ripping as he grew larger and larger. Within a few moments, he'd grown into a huge snake, which as expected, immediately began snarling and growling.

Also as expected, the teachers and the parents shrieked in terror and began to run back towards the exits. Xander risked a glance back that way, seeing a crowd of vampires, all displaying their demonic side, moving in to block the exits.

A masterful plan, except that they'd already made their own preparations. "Students, ready!" He yelled into the crowd, and immediately and as one, the students ripped off their graduation gowns and displayed home-made flamethrowers, bows and arrows, swords and axes.

"Flame units, forward!" He yelled, and the students with the flamethrowers moved towards the Mayor, igniting their weapons and preparing to fight for their lives.

The Mayor growled flinching back as the students unleashed their fires and burnt his newly hatched reptilian skin.

Snyder, once and for all proving he was a complete moron, began to yell at the transformed Mayor. "Hold it buster! I don't allow this sort of thing in my school!" Xander couldn't believe what he was seeing. Could anybody really be that stupid?

Taking exception to being scolded, the Mayor immediately lunged down with surprising speed and swallowed Snyder whole. Something told Xander that he really wouldn't be missed. He'd made enough people's lives hell just because he could.

"Archers, aim!" Xander yelled as the Mayor coiled up, preparing to advance on the student buffet. "Fire!" He screamed, and the giant snake recoiled as some of the arrows struck his hide. None of them went really deep, but they weren't counting on the arrows to kill him anyway. He turned, looking towards the vampire lines, and seeing they were dissolving against the student's organized resistance, he grinned. It'd be up to Buffy now.

"Retreat! Fall back now!" Turning towards the faltering vampire lines, the students moved as fast as they could, fighting with desperation. They took losses, of course, but there were just too many students and they were armed. Most of the vampires were used to hunting helpless prey, not dealing with armed, desperate opponents.

He, too, began his retreat, as Buffy began to taunt the Mayor, holding the bloodied knife with Faith's blood on it.

* * *

Fate is a fickle thing. Everything can change with a single, tiny alteration. The plan was to get the Mayor to the library, the epicenter of the explosion where it would do the most damage to him. It would have been enough...had the Mayor stopped in the library. 

As Buffy ran through the halls, the Mayor destroying the building as he followed her, she ran with every bit of speed she could get out of her muscles. If she hadn't been in such good shape she'd have never stayed ahead of the monster.

The Mayor, enraged by the few wounds he had taken, and the rage of this puny child who had dared to hurt the Dark Slayer he had adopted, in a sense, made him want to devour her. It didn't help that he was hungry, immensely hungry, needing to feed to sustain the transformation.

Even as Buffy dove out the window of the library, his immense head was right behind her. Xander and Giles detonated the explosives in panic, causing Sunnydale High to blow outwards. The Mayor let out an inhuman scream of agony, his head bowing down a bit and going limp.

Xander, Giles and Buffy stood together, breathing heavily and watching the monster, the massive head twitching. To their horror, it slowly raised again, glaring balefully at them through narrowed eyes.

"You're all dead now, little brats! I'll enjoy eating the lot of you!" The creature that had once been Mayor Wilkins yelled out, to their surprise.

"Xander, Giles, we've got to get the hell out of here!" Buffy screamed.

Xander and Giles broke into a run with Buffy, the Mayor following closely behind, though nowhere near as fast as he did before. It was easy to see why, literally half of him was blown off.

It was only a brief respite, however. Even as the trio ran to Oz's van (it was closest, and Oz was already there) that massive wound inflicted by the bomb was sealing itself. The end result, of course, is that the Mayor was just getting more hungry. Even powerful pure demons don't just heal themselves.

Oz, proving that those who keep their mouths shut do so because they're too busy using their brains, quickly opened the back of his van for the trio, before running up to the driver's seat, starting it as quickly as he could and pressed his foot on the accelerator as soon as Buffy, Giles and Xander were inside.

"Damn it! He's still coming after us!" Xander swore, going into a fairly lengthy exploration of his vocabulary of swear words.

The Mayor continued to gain speed as he chased after the van. Both vehicle and large demon swerved through the streets of Sunnydale. The Mayor crashed through a few houses and into the larger buildings as he kept trying to follow the van around sharp corners. Oz kept an eye on it in the mirrors as he asked, as calmly as he could. "Where do we go, guys? We can't keep running forever!"

Giles spoke quietly. "The army base. We might be able to get something there, or at least make the soldiers shoot at it."

* * *

Riley and Graham, meanwhile, were simply scouting out the town, getting a feel for its layout and remembering landmarks when they heard the explosion. 

Riley looked in the direction of the burning school, though it was out of sight, he could still see the orange glow on the horizon. "What do you think about that, Graham? Arson, or an HST?"

Graham shrugged. "Who knows, bud? With our luck, we'll find out about it soon enough."

True to that old superstition that saying something makes it more likely to happen, an old battered van passed by, closely followed by a large, badly wounded snake demon. The pair of FOX-HOUND operatives just stood there for a moment, then as one they ran for their Jeep. Graham got into the driver's seat, while Riley moved to the back and flipped up the seat, pulling out a rocket propelled grenade launcher.

Now the pair were immersing themselves in their true identities. Even though Riley Finn and Graham Miller were their real names, they were Gray Fox and Silver Snake first. The way they were acting in Sunnydale was as much a facade as anything else they've had to do.

Graham quickly began following the van and the giant demon, Riley priming the rocket launcher. It wasn't a hard route for Silver Snake to follow, the demon was leaving a trail of blood and ichor on the pavement. Riley noticed in some places, the road was steaming, as if the monster's blood was actively eating into the pavement.

Riley called down to Graham. "Where are they headed, Snake?"

Graham shouted his reply. "Looks like the army base, Fox. Whomever's driving has a halfway good idea for taking that thing out!"

Riley nodded, taking aim with the RPG. The base was less than a minute ahead, and the two FOX-HOUND operatives steeled themselves for a battle they never expected.

* * *

Oz drove his van through the gate, smashing open the chainlink fence. Security wasn't exactly the tightest thing in the Sunnydale Army base, mostly because the Mayor managed to exert enough influence to keep their numbers low. It just wouldn't do to have the military to be really aware of what was going on in Sunnydale. 

A pair of soldiers came out from their patrols, taking a look at the van and the massive demon coming along behind, and acting completely on instinct, raised their machine guns and fired at the Mayor.

Upon the stings of pain, the Mayor quickly changed course, bearing down on the pair with frightening speed and opened his mouth, letting out a roar before eating them alive. They screamed right up until the Mayor's mouth closed around their struggling forms.

This gave Oz time to stop long enough for Xander and Buffy to jump out of the van to run for the armories, and for Giles to take the wheel. He parked the van behind the armory and killed the engine, hoping that the Mayor would be confused for a short while, and preparing to act as a distraction should the need arise.

Another vehicle pulled in alongside the Mayor, the driver pulling around with seemingly reckless abandon, the passenger quickly firing a rocket at the Mayor. The massive demon let out an ear-wrenching roar of pain as the rocket detonated in its side, blowing a large chunk out of its hide. It turned and glared balefully at the Jeep, quickly slithering after it.

Xander and Buffy emerged from the armories at this moment, Buffy holding a rocket launcher of her own, Xander standing aside with a spare launcher and ammo, so he could load them as quickly as possible.

Buffy grinned to Xander as she rose the rocket launcher to her shoulder. "How do you like your snakes, Xander? I like them deep fried."

Xander's answering grin was fierce. "Marinated with gravy, Buff. I'll take barbecued though."

Even as Buffy took aim, the Mayor broadsided the Jeep, sending it tumbling like a child's toy. The huge, though injured, demon moved on top of the Jeep, crumpling it under its weight slowly. Buffy and Xander could hear the two men screaming inside.

Buffy aimed carefully, firing the rocket where she thought it would do the most damage. The rocket soared forwards with perfect accuracy, detonating on impact with the Mayor's left eye.

Even as the Mayor reared back and roared in agony, she quickly traded her launcher for the one Xander had in his hands. The Mayor moved with astonishing speed, however, and as Buffy aimed again, the Mayor slithered off behind the concrete buildings. Xander took the time to load the launcher Buffy had already used, and as he got to his feet, he strapped his spare rockets to his side.

The Mayor came back around at high speed, and Buffy took aim once again. She let the rocket fly, but the large demon had learned. It twisted improbably, the rocket flying off to the side and detonating harmlessly on the army base's wall. Desperately, Xander tried to aim his rocket at the Mayor, but Buffy already saw that by the time he could fire properly, the Mayor would already be on them.

Desperately, she pushed Xander aside, turning to run. Xander grunted as he hit the ground, scraping up his arm as the badly wounded demon snake passed by right next to him.

Buffy was in excellent shape, and she was the Slayer. She could outrun any ordinary human easily. Unfortunately, the Mayor could move much, much faster than she could. The Mayor rose up behind Buffy, letting out a low growl, and then he swiped down, slamming her aside with the side of his head. Buffy flopped roughly on the ground, quickly getting to her feet again, scraped up badly. Had it ended there, she might have been okay.

It didn't.

The Mayor pressed his attack, roughly pushing her up into the air like a rag doll, sending her flying to land on the ground near Xander, her limbs twisted in a sickening way.

Upon that sight, something inside Xander snapped. He rose to his feet, raising his rocket launcher and aimed right for the Mayor's head. Xander was on the demon-snake's blind side, and he fully intended to take advantage of that.

Letting the rocket loose, the weapon slammed into the Mayor's already open eye socket, the explosive detonating just inside the Mayor's skull. It let out a howl of intense agony, turning and glaring at him, black blood spilling out of its mouth as Xander mechanically reloaded, a nearly inhuman expression of determination on his face.

"Hey you ugly sonofabitch! If you want her, you've got to go through me first!" Xander screamed, raising the rocket launcher again and letting it fly before the monster could react.

Even as the Mayor tried to twist to lessen the impact, another rocket slammed into the demon's side. The soldier stood there with his own launcher, reloading it with the ease of long practice. Xander's rocket caught the Mayor in the mouth, causing the immense demon to shriek and back away.

With both Xander and Riley alternating their shots, both aiming for the Mayor's head, and the demon already extremely wounded, the outcome was a foregone conclusion. The large demon gave a shudder, collapsing onto the ground and twitching weakly, letting out hisses and groans of pain.

Xander reloaded his rocket launcher one last time, moved so that the rocket's trajectory would go as deep into the Mayor's eye wound as deeply as possible. Coldly, teeth clenched, he rose the weapon and fired. The rocket could not miss now, and when it exploded inside the Mayor's exposed brain, the monster jerked along its entire massive frame, and then lay still.

Turning to Buffy, Xander dropped his rocket launcher and knelt next to her. She gave him a weak smile. "Not bad, Key-guy. Can we please get out of here now?"

Xander nodded with a forced smile. "Yeah Buff. I'll even bring you ice cream." He looked up, seeing Giles, Oz, and the army guy coming towards him. "Hey, can we get an ambulance here? She's hurt bad, Giles!"

The army guy just nodded. "Relax, there's a paramedic unit on the way. Your friend isn't the only one hurt, you know. Don't worry." He nodded towards the corpse of the Mayor. "You'll get the best care, courtesy of my unit."

Giles and Oz came by Buffy and knelt next to her. All together, her father figure and her friends comforted the Slayer as they waited, hearing the sirens in the distance slowly grow louder.

* * *

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, 2006 

General Hammond was smiling quite a bit as he escorted Snake to the briefing room, where SG-1 was waiting. Colonel Jack O'Neill looked quite bored, doodling something on a piece of paper in front of him. Doctor Daniel Jackson sat in his seat comfortably, a curious expression on his face. Teal'c just had his hands folded in front of him, a single eyebrow raised. Captain Samantha Carter seemed to be considering something, licking her lips as her attention was focused elsewhere, probably back in her lab.

Hammond spoke in his low Texan drawl. "SG-1, this is Major Alex Harris. He's here as a combat specialist. Right now we just need to bring him up to speed on the Stargate program and then we'll assign him to one of the off-world teams."

Jack looked Snake over appraisingly, and Snake just gave him a smirk. "The infamous Jack O'Neill, I presume? Your files are pretty colorful. Black on black." Snake spoke with a grin.

Jack grinned in answer. "Well, you know. You sneak around and shoot a few mailboxes and suddenly the government thinks you're competent."

Snake laughed lowly. "Well, I'm looking forward to working here. I would like to go over the procedures and such, I really don't care if I step on a few toes, but I like to prepare for worst-case scenarios."

Daniel rose his hand. "Umm, combat specialist is a little vague. What exactly is it do you do?"

Snake grinned. "I'm one of those guys who routinely go into places that are about to blow themselves up in very messy ways and fix the problem. My file is about as blacked-out as Colonel O'Neill's here, so I can't go into a great amount of detail. But, I've been told I'm a one-man army, and looking over my own statistics I'd have to agree with that. I'm not about to tell everybody else here how to do their jobs, but I do have a lot of expertise in stealth missions, firearm combat against superior numbers, hand-to-hand training, and even using light or heavy ordinance to take out armored targets. From what I'm told, this is the kind of thing the SGC needs, at least until our technical disadvantage has been made up for."

Teal'c raised his head. The Jaffa spoke impassively, as always. "You must indeed be a great warrior. I have seen some of the Tau'ri weapons and vehicles, and I do not believe many of the war machines would be easy to defeat on foot."

Snake nodded to Teal'c. "You have no idea, but yeah. Trying to take out a tank with nothing but grenades and landmines is pretty difficult, nevertheless some other things I've done. Maybe we can swap war stories at some point, hm?"

Teal'c smiled faintly. "Indeed."

Turning his gaze to Captain Carter, Snake smiled warmly and gave a respectful nod. "Well Captain, I've heard a lot about your work. I didn't understand any of it, but I did hear about it."

Samantha Carter couldn't help but smile. "It's not exactly simple, but I'm sure I could walk you through it. It's all just a matter of building up one set of principles on others and then adding it all together."

Snake grinned a little mischievously. "Does this mean I can come to you for help with my math homework, Captain?"

Jack let out an indignant "Hey! You can't do that! She's too busy helping me with mine!"

General Hammond just let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. "Two of them...I don't think I can handle two of them." Which amused everybody else immensely.

* * *

That's it for the moment, folks. I'll keep working on it, but please, I really appreciate hearing what you all think. 

Keep in mind that there's going to be a lot of changes throughout the timeline, and if I get a detail wrong, it's because I'm unaware. Besides, I'm sure a lot of you are more interested in finding out how Xander becomes Solid Snake, eh?

Anyway, I'll update later.

Nick.


	3. Family

Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake's Beginnings Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Metal Gear Solid, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Stargate: SG1 doesn't belong to me in any way whatsoever. Therefore, I am making no money here. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Got it?

For the readers:

Ronin100: The reason I made Snake cheerful in the Stargate section is I need to keep the character recognizably Xander, while at the same time making him Solid Snake. It's not an easy thing to mix together. However, there is a good reason for his acting cheerful. Just because a character acts like everything's dandy doesn't mean it really is. Also remember he just spent three years up in Twin Lakes, and while the horrors of his service are still with him, that time has let it fade somewhat.

Lennox RH: Relax, I'm not skipping most of the stories, I'm jumping back and forth. Some of it will be very different, however. Merging three universes isn't exactly the simplest thing, and trying to get it to merge well is a challenge I hope I'm able to meet.

Shadow Master: As for who Snake's 'Dad' is..well, read on and see! Many things will be different, but I am doing what I can to keep the feel of all the universes.

And if anybody's wondering, this isn't a Xander-stands-alone story. Everybody's lives will be changed, but I do intend to answer the question of what happened to all the Scoobies.

Anyway, shall we get on with it?

* * *

Sunnydale, 1998. One month after Graduation Day. 

Big Boss was an irritated old man.

When he'd received Gray Fox's suggestion at a new recruit for the FOX-HOUND unit, he'd asked Ocelot to pass along all the information he could about the promising young man who had been of a valuable contribution to destroy that massive demon that had done a great deal of damage to Sunnydale. The demon had done so much damage in its effort to chase the van to the army base that the citizens of Sunnydale were slowly trickling out. At this rate, in a couple of years, Sunnydale would be a ghost town. Unsurprisingly, they blamed the damage on a freak tornado. It's not often a tornado forms without a storm, but that's what everyone tended to believe. Still, a lot of the people now thought it was simpler to move out than rebuild.

That is, if the supernatural population didn't increase the rate or departure by doing something utterly stupid. That seemed somewhat unlikely, however. With that massive demon's death, whatever seemed to attract the lesser demons to the area seemed to have waned. They still snuck in, but it seemed to be more along the lines of the usual migrations than a fly to honey sort of thing.

Now he was going through the files of the group who'd worked against the supernaturals, past and present. Even if they wouldn't be recruited for FOX-HOUND, he was sure they'd be useful in one way or another. Whether it was for the Initiative project or some other thing, they'd be good for something.

He started, naturally, with the largest folder first. Elizabeth Anne Summers. Suspected of arson in a school gym in Los Angeles. Involved in gang activity, brought into the hospital for a bad fever a year ago. Suspected of murder, also a year ago, deemed innocent in absentia. All the police notes were from a Detective Stein. Her photo was that of a perky blond. She didn't look like she could have weighed more than a hundred pounds.

Willow Rosenberg. Her file was pretty slim, however this Stein person suspected she was involved in gang activity and the occult. Naturally, there was no evidence, just a lot of supposition here. She appeared to be a subdued redhead. She was kind of cute, and he would imagine her to be the quiet type.

Daniel Osborne. He owned the battered van that the giant snake had chased its merry way through downtown Sunnydale. His file was nearly empty as well, and he appeared to have been included because of suspicion of gang activity again. Big Boss was beginning to suspect this Stein wanted to find an excuse, any excuse at all, to arrest the entire lot.

Rupert Giles. Immigrated from Britain in late 1996. A scholar for a private antiquities organization., he'd apparently decided to go to California and just settle down. Strangely enough, he arrived in Sunnydale a few weeks before the Summers girl, and immediately afterward the death rates in Sunnydale began to climb. His photo showed an older man with a somewhat grim expression.

He looked at the final file, the one Riley asked him to consider recruiting. Alexander Harris. It was only slightly slimmer than the Summers file, but two-thirds of it were medical reports. Mostly injures at an early age. Bruising, a broken arm, apparently from falling down a flight of stairs. The same thing, more bruises from falls. He frowned as the list went on. The list seemed more consistent with systematic abuse than simple clumsiness. If it had been anywhere but Sunnydale, or some other backwater towns he could think of, Harris would have likely been removed by Child Welfare by the age of six.

The injures dropped off at the age of thirteen, at least according to the list, but they picked right up again in late 1996, approximately the same time Summers arrived.

He sat back in his chair, taking a cigar out of his pocket and lighting it, breathing in the smoke and letting it out as he collected his thoughts. Supernatural activity in Sunnydale seemed to increase at about the same time Giles arrived in the town. It seemed likely that Giles had become an organizing influence for these few teenagers to try and put a damper on the activity.

Out of near boredom, he picked up Harris' photo, and it caused him to do a double-take.

"It's not possible..." He spoke quietly, his single blue eye focusing on the picture.

There were a few differences, but they were slight. Harris' eyes were brown, but the facial structure was nearly exactly the same. The cheekbones, the shade of his hair. Even the nose was the same. The lips were a bit softer, but that could come about by a difference in living conditions. Harris was also slightly shorter according to his physical stats, but his medical history would explain that.

He stared at the photograph, nearly shaken. It was maddening, in a way. Big Boss had been rendered sterile after the Bikini Atoll atomic tests five decades ago. The only chance he had at children was the near-complete failure, 'Les Enfant Terrible' project. There were five attempts, two developed fatal tumors while they were still in the crib. A third suffered heart failure at the age of five. The fourth had a keen mind, but in his teens his bones began to degenerate, he suffered from accelerated aging, and he was only able because of technological advances. He would never be a good soldier without an experimental power suit to amplify the strength of his muscles. Even now George was seen as a frail old man in the Senate, even though he was only thirty-six.

The only somewhat success, Cameron, was in the SIS, a literal British secret agent. He seemed to be doing well in his technical training, but he suffered greatly from inadequacy issues. Big Boss had to admit to himself part of it was that Cameron knew he was a clone, but at some point he had developed a sheer ruthlessness that made him uncontrollable, unreasonable and just plain dangerous.

Big Boss considered the possibility that Harris was a clone that had been created in the 80's, then rejected the possibility. If that was the case, Harris would have blue eyes, not brown. And yet, the resemblance was uncanny. It was almost like looking into a mirror of his younger self.

He took another drag from his cigar, letting out the smoke as he returned to Harris' medical file.

There, Harris' family doctor was one Doctor Marvin Brown. He remembered quite vividly the genetic expert who worked on the 1972 project. Marvin Brown.

Ruffling through Harris' files, he found a note that was in Ocelot's usual, fairly messy handwriting.

_Boss,_

_I noticed it too. I took the liberty of placing surveillance on the kid. I also managed to get Fox to convince that mad scientist of yours to approach the group and get them to work with her project. They're pinned down for a while. I suggest you come down here and talk with the kid's family doc, I recognized the name too and I'm sure he's the one with the answers. I'd do it myself, but I was certain you'd like to learn the answers yourself._

_He really does look like you back then. It's a little freaky, really.__I'm sure Fox would notice it too, if he had seen a picture of you when you were younger and without the patch._

All this was dropped in his lap when he decided to come by and check up on Walsh. A stroke of luck, really. Big Boss crushed the end of his cigar in his ashtray and got to his feet, putting his civilian clothing on as he went to the door of his hotel room.

He had a doctor to see. Something was telling him one of them was going to develop health problems, and it wasn't Big Boss.

* * *

Doctor Marvin Brown, geneticist and family doctor, was having a rather bad morning. The only thing that made it somewhat redeemable was the possibility he might live long enough to see evening. 

He'd awoken to someone roughly punching him in the face, and when he'd opened his eyes, he was staring down the barrel of a revolver. The man on the other end had shockingly white hair, a matching beard, and a cold, ruthless expression that told him very clearly that his life was likely going to be measured in minutes.

"Get up, somebody wants to talk to you, and I don't want to be here all day." He spoke, gesturing with the revolver. Marvin slowly rose, looking quite flustered in his pyjamas as the ruffian none-too-gently pushed him into his living room.

A one-eyed man was sitting on his couch, idly smoking a cigar. He let a little smirk cross his face as Marvin went pale at the sight. "B-B-Big Boss? What're you doing here?" The increasingly nervous doctor stuttered.

"You've been keeping something from me, doc."

His eyes grew wild. "N-No, I never did keep anything from you, sir."

"Really now? How do you explain this?" A photograph flew at his face, falling to the ground. Marvin slowly knelt down and picked it up, his legs trembling in fear as he saw the individual on it. The Harris boy.

"I can explain, I swear!"

The man with the revolver pushed him onto the floor roughly, and Big Boss just looked at the doctor with some distaste. "I suggest you hurry it up and explain, old boy. Ocelot and I aren't getting any younger."

"Harris is part of an experiment, a long-shot at a followup of 'Les Enfant Terrible!'"

"Keep talking." Big Boss spoke, narrowing his eye.

"The reason the previous project failed is because of the radiation damage done to your body, sir. No two cells we could take from you were mutated exactly alike, and there's very little of your original genetic code left. There isn't any part of you that hasn't been affected, frankly I'm surprised you haven't developed cancer or something."

Ocelot pulled the hammer back on his revolver. "Get on with it." He nearly growled.

Marvin trembled, looking up at Big Boss with pleading eyes. "S-so, I used some military technology to attempt to engineer a new genetic code. One that would express all your traits without being damaged. I used your DNA as a template and worked on it. Most of the embryos were a failure to begin with, but the Harris one planted successfully. He is almost a clone of you, but with a fresh set of genes and a few differences.

"The problem arose when he grew up a bit and he failed to express any of the traits we tried to install. His intelligence wasn't any quicker than a normal person's, in some places his aptitude was actually worse. I would have been able to fix it if genes were simple, but they're not. Even active genes code together to form emergent properties, and I couldn't fix the Harris kid after he was born. My superiors weren't willing to wait another six years to get a lucky engineered clone, so they scrapped the project. The Harris' didn't get their bonus money, so they took it out on the kid." Marvin finished.

Big Boss nodded slowly. "Ocelot, let him up."

Ocelot looked a little disappointed, but he released the hammer of his revolver and put it away. Marvin stumbled to his feet, still trembling.

Big Boss spoke quietly. "Whether I knew about him or not, he is my son. I don't appreciate you keeping this from me. Would you be surprised to learn that your spectacular failure exhibited some extremely able instincts a month ago?"

Marvin blinked. "That's impossible! He didn't display any of the traits we tried to engineer."

"I suppose you did a little better than you thought, hm? No matter. Ocelot."

Ocelot grabbed Marvin by the back of the neck and hauled him towards the window. Marvin let out a squeal, and then a scream as Ocelot threw him through the window head-first. Marvin screamed all the way down the four stories, at least, until he landed on his head.

Big Boss looked down from the broken window, a contemptuous look on his face. "I really don't like people who let my sons be beaten by lousy greedy drunkards."

Ocelot smiled a bit. "So what do we do about Harris, Boss?"

"I think we'll train him here in Sunnydale. If he's got potential, we'll recruit him into FOX-HOUND. If not..." He shrugged. "At least I'll know."

* * *

"How are you holding up?" Riley asked sympathetically. 

Xander just groaned from his bed, in the middle of the Lowell House. "Like some sneak replaced my muscles with taffy. How long was that run again?"

Riley grinned, holding up five fingers. "Five miles. You're pretty good at running, but you pushed yourself too hard. You've got to work on that stamina, Xander."

Xander let out a sigh. It had been a tough month since the Mayor was killed. Buffy had spent a full week in casts, letting her arms and legs heal. True to his word, Xander had fetched ice cream on request for her.

Most of the rest of the time was spent patrolling and training with Riley and Graham, and about two weeks into it, Forrest Gates. While Xander was inexperienced with working in a military team, he took to it easily, and he knew Sunnydale intimately. Pretty quickly, their team became the best at capturing vampires and the assorted demons that ran around Sunnydale.

The Scoobies had found themselves as the experts, working with a government-funded army, and with both sides' expertise, Sunnydale became very hazardous for the creatures of the night. A lot of the supernatural denizens actually began to flee the city, much to the dismay of Willy the snitch. Few decent humans want to spend time in a dank, dirty, smelly bar. That effectively reduced his clientele to the rejects.

It wasn't all good, however. Xander may have known Sunnydale like the back of his hand, but he wasn't in military shape. That was something Riley intended to rectify. Xander went through a crash course boot camp, and he had to work twice as hard as any of the other army grunts providing the muscle for the Initiative. They already knew this stuff. Xander knew it via transplanted soldier memories, but that wasn't as good as the real thing. All of it had to be hammered into his muscles, not just his mind.

Hence Xander's current pain. He let out a pathetic groan as he slowly got to his feet. Riley shook his head. "Take it easy today, Xander. You'll have to sleep and heal up. You're not going to be much good in your current shape."

Xander nodded. "Well, I'm still starving. I'll make myself a sandwich and watch the Simpsons or something."

Riley gave Xander a salute. "Well, I'll drop by Buffy's place. She'll probably want some of that chocolate chip ice cream you bought."

The pair had become pretty fast friends over the previous month. Apparently, fighting against a big demon snake with nothing but rocket launchers was a good way to bond. Xander did suspect that Riley's periodic trips to Buffy wasn't entirely altruistic. He was sure, however, that Buffy didn't mind. She'd confided to him on a movie night that "Army guy was pretty cute."

Xander waved to Riley. "Go on, don't keep the Buffster waiting. She likes you, man. You should ask her out in a little bit, I'm pretty sure she's say yes."

Riley nodded slowly. "I'll consider it." He paused. "She likes me?"

Xander grinned. "Yes, she does. I'll warn you though, if you hurt her they'll never find your body, yeah?"

Riley gave a laugh. "Understood."

* * *

Maggie Walsh wasn't entirely pleased with the changed situation. She was not expecting General Hayter to take a greater interest in the project. Capturing demons was made more efficient with his men, she'd be the first to grant, but a 'request' to bring these vigilantes into the project was something she didn't like very much. 

Although the ancient research by the Englishman, and the expertise of killing these creatures from the Slayer was useful indeed. It saved her a lot of time in trying to figure out the best combination of parts to create the ultimate soldier. All she had to do was balance her subject's strengths so it would have no weaknesses.

And, there was one unexpected bonus.

Her masterpiece would be called ADAM when he was complete. The first generation of the perfect living weapons, man, machine and demon all together. It would only be appropriate that an Adam should have an Eve.

She smiled to herself as she stared at the one she hoped would become Eve through the specialty built room. The barriers were charged, the walls extra-thick, and there wasn't a single heavy object in the room that was moveable by anything less than a bulldozer.

Inside was the slumbering form, attached to IV lines. The still-living body of Faith Lehane.

* * *

Well, what do you think? 

I apologize for no Stargate pieces in this part, but what I have planned for the Stargate part does depend somewhat on what I'm laying out here. You can be assured I haven't forgotten it, but it will take a little while yet.

I'll get to the next part as soon as I can.

Later all.

Nick.


	4. Treading Lightly

Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake's Beginnings chapter 4

Disclaimer: Guess what folks? You guessed it, I'm broke. I haven't got any rights here, so I'm just messing with these characters. I promise I'll put them back where I found them, only slightly abused!

I'm glad my readers are enjoying this almost as much as I am. I suppose this means my other fic is on hold as long as this plot bunny is hopping. Come on sniper, tag it! Tag it! Damn incompetent...

For you nitpickers, I am aware that CQC (close-quarters combat) was developed by real people and I have a passing acquaintance with its history. However, in the Metal Gear Solid universe, it was developed by Big Boss, and hence I will be treating it as such. It's hard to be more badass when you develop your own martial arts style.

Anyway, here we go.

* * *

Sunnydale, 1998. Two weeks after the previous chapter. 

Anthony and Jessica Harris were never the best of parents. After the disappointment of their 'son' both went into criminal levels of neglect for the boy they were raising. Tony was utterly indifferent to Xander's existence. As far as Tony was concerned, Alexander was useful only as a punching bag or whatever money he could squeeze out of the boy.

Jessica was a little better, but only barely. In her defense, she did try to defend him, and took many of her husband's beatings when they would otherwise be directed at her son. However, she never comforted her son or encouraged him, reasoning that he was a failure in the project that gave him to her and thus would never amount to anything of use, hence it would be a wasted effort.

It was to their surprise that, after a night of heavy drinking, they'd both awoken in a cargo container, fully restrained with handcuffs and chains, and groggy, heads pounding. Had they been experienced with anything other than alcohol, they might have realized that they'd been tranquilized and were only now shaking off the effects. Even so, their hangovers would torment them for a while yet.

"Honey?" Jessica spoke hesitantly. She always did. Years of abuse had taught her to be meek whenever possible, and to yell and fight back only when left with no other choice.

Her husband rumbled. "Quiet, bitch. This had better not be a prank by your girlfriends."

Indeed, it was more than a little disconcerting for both of them to awaken in a pitch-black shipping container.

Both recoiled as the doors were opened, the light instantly making their eyes water. Two figures strode into the room, featureless with the light behind them.

One was wearing a trenchcoat and spurs, his boots clanking on the ground. The other was in a bomber jacket and had an eyepatch over his right eye. He was glaring at the pair rather menacingly.

Jessica recoiled and kept her mouth shut. She knew the look of dangerous men.

Tony, however, had fried a few too many brain cells on his drinking binges. "What the hell's going on?" He bellowed. "You can't do this to me, I have rights!"

The eye-patched man swiftly kicked Tony in the gut, a sneer on his face. "Quiet, you lousy piece of shit."

Tony gasped for air, coughing and groaning. Big Boss shook his head. This was the type of man Marvin had chosen to raise his son? The old man never made any pretense at being a saint or even a competent parent, but he was sure even he could have done better than this drunkard.

He spoke quietly, coldly. "I really don't appreciate your attitude, Anthony. You were trusted with something very important of mine. You know, for my other children, I did at least try to arrange for them to have the best of parents. It's a real pity that poor Marvin had to come to you for implanting my little dear boy."

Tony went white. Jessica began sobbing quietly, realizing just how unlikely it was for them to get out of this alive.

Big Boss continued. "I've read my son's medical file. I'm really mad with you, Tony. What was it, you didn't get the money you were promised, so you decided to punish the boy?"

Tony clamped his lips shut. Big Boss sighed, reached into his jacket with a quick movement that belied his age and pulled out a silenced pistol, one that had been lovingly treated and polished. Without changing expression, he shot out one of Tony's kneecaps.

Jessica let out a little scream of terror as Tony fell to the floor, crying out in agony. "God damn it, you son of a bitch! You shot my leg!"

Ocelot laughed lowly. "He's in a bad mood, slug. You'd better start answering his questions or he'll start shooting things a little more important to you."

Big Boss held his pistol to his side, muzzle pointed at the floor. "Now, what moronic line of reasoning was it that you followed that justified your beating my son?"

Tony babbled out. "He wasn't what we were promised, so we didn't get our money! The little retard was a rebellious little brat, and he was costing us money every day, and we couldn't get rid of him."

Big Boss sighed, tapping his leg with the pistol. "Hmph. I thought it was something like that." He glanced to Ocelot and nodded. "Ocelot, you've been wanting to practice for a while, haven't you?"

Ocelot grinned, stroking his mustache. "Well, I haven't had too many subjects to work with lately. They tend to keep dying halfway through it, it's rather embarrassing."

Big Boss returned Ocelot's grin. "Well, just make sure you take a very long time with this waste of oxygen here. I want him to regret the actions of the last few years immensely."

"How long do you want me to drag it out, Boss?"

Big Boss considered it. "Hmmm. How old is Alexander now?"

Tony began blubbering in terror. Jessica just sat, trembling.

Big Boss pointed to Jessica. "How old is Alexander, my dear?"

Jessica replied with a tremor in her voice. "Eight-Eighteen, sir. He's eighteen."

Big Boss grinned. "There we go, eighteen. Hmm, let this waste of skin suffer for two days for each year, then you can kill him. I'll be a little put out with you if he dies any sooner, Ocelot."

Ocelot gave Tony a smile, one that promised a lot of long, horrid hours. "You've got it, Boss. I know just the thing."

Tony stared up at Ocelot, trembling in terror. He scarcely noticed as Big Boss strode forward and freed Jessica from her bonds. His imagination was too busy conjuring up various worst-case scenarios that would happen at the hands of the grinning sadist in front of him.

He could not imagine, however, that Ocelot would manage to outstrip all of them.

After leaving Tony to Ocelot's not-so-tender mercies, Big Boss seemed to completely change in attitude towards Jessica. After all, she was the one who bore his child, in a sense. Alexander may not have been an exact clone, but he was designed in Big Boss' image, anyway.

Jessica squirmed under the old man's scrutiny. He made a smile to her, but he wasn't completely able to appear warm by any means. His single blue eye had seen too much, done too much, and nobody could completely hide such experiences.

He reached into his jacket once more, and Jessica flinched, expecting him to perhaps pull out his gun and finish her off. It was to her surprise when he simply dropped a few papers in her hands. One airline ticket to Florida, and one check. He spoke quietly, his voice rough with years of smoking. "I'm not very fond of you, my dear, but you are my son's mother, and thus I'm inclined to be a little more generous. That check in your hand is worth two million dollars. It's all yours on the condition you leave here and never come near Alexander again."

Jessica nodded slowly, her lip trembling. "I'll do as you say, sir." She had been many things, most of them unsavory, but she wasn't stupid.

Big Boss nodded, evidently satisfied. "Now go, I don't want to look at you anymore."

* * *

Cheyenne Mountain, 2006 

Snake grumbled to himself as he hung on the undercarriage of the supply truck as it drove up to the mountain's entrance. Sure, infiltrating this way was his best bet, but hanging above the road by a few inches was distinctly uncomfortable.

He had been tempted to use the patented 'Snake in a cardboard box' trick, but it just wouldn't have been wise to use it just yet. Besides, he had to get used to moving around without such an easy trick, something told him cardboard wasn't a typical Goa'uld commodity.

This was a simple training exercise for the SG teams and an attempt to shake the rust off his skills all at the same time. His only armament: his bare hands and his wits. The SG teams were aware he was coming, of course, but what time he was supposed to arrive and the method had been completely left to him, and until he had been spotted and alarm raised on the base, nobody was allowed to lock it down, barring an off-world attack. The teams had all been given paintball guns for the exercise, the heavier armaments were set aside. They still carried their handguns, though. Just in case an actual emergency happened.

The truck passed the checkpoint, naturally with the guard neglecting to look underneath. Checking the goods in the back had taken a few minutes, but it wasn't too hard for Snake to hold on quietly for the duration. He was a little out of shape, but the harsh living in Alaska kept him more fit than he would have been had he just sat on his butt the entire time. Chopping wood had kept his upper body in good shape, too.

The truck finally came to a halt, and Snake cautiously dropped to the pavement and turned over, looking around while letting his hands and wrists relax. He saw the men in Air Force fatigues pulling the goods out of the back of the truck, carrying boxes of food. He almost regretted not using the cardboard box trick, but it would have been either too easy or too risky.

From his low vantage point, he considered his possible infiltration points. There was the elevator, and air vents, which weren't on this floor. It was just the parking lot, ventilation was simply allowed in from outside. He couldn't rely on air vents until he got at least one floor down, and then he'd have to go down another thirty or so to get to his destination: The Gate Room. One thing at a time.

That was all he knew about the base's layout. Naturally, he picked up a bit when he first came in and was given his welcome to Stargate Command, but the rest of the floors was unknown to him. Just the way he preferred it for the exercise. This almost felt like Outer Heaven all over again. Except this time, he wouldn't be killed if he was seen, just smacked with a bunch of paintballs.

He waited until the men had the groceries all packed into the elevator and the doors closed before he cautiously peeked out, looking for the surveillance cameras. There were a few around, one in each corner of the parking lot, giving pretty good coverage.

He sighed as he lamented not using one of the access hatches. But, if he had, he'd end up right in the corridors without any chance to scout first. Rookie mistake.

He carefully slid out from under the truck on its front end, keeping the truck between him and the camera. He watched it pan back and forth slowly and shook his head. He'd have to suggest to Hammond to either make them non-moving cameras or to simply install more of them, moving cameras actually made his job a bit easier.

As soon as the camera near the elevator panned away, he scrambled over until he was directly under it. He loved blind spots. The only problem, of course, was getting to the elevator before the camera on the far side panned over to his position. It would be close.

When the moment came, he didn't hesitate for a second. He ran over to the elevator, slapped the button and then ducked behind General Hammond's car, staying out of sight of the cameras.

When the doors opened, he ran for the elevator, not bothering to wait for the cameras to pan over properly. His exposure would last only a second, and since he had waited several hours before starting the exercise, he was counting on the men on the monitors being at least a little bored and inattentive.

When he got to the elevator, he didn't bother hitting any of the buttons. An access card key was required before the elevator would move anywhere, and for the purposes of the exercise he'd left his key with the General.

Instead, he jumped up, pushing an access panel on the ceiling aside. With a second jump, he grabbed on and pulled himself up. Once he was standing on top of the elevator, he replaced the access panel and looked along the sides of the shaft.

Just as he'd anticipated, there was a maintenance hatch, to let workers in on those occasions the elevator went on the fritz. What he didn't quite anticipate, however, was that it was so tightly shut he hadn't a hope in hell of opening it from this side.

He sighed, licking his lips for a moment, then he looked up the shaft. He was fairly close to the top, there was a few other projects up above in the mountain after all. He crouched, considering his options, and then he heard the elevator door open beneath him and the voices of Colonel O'Neill and Captain Carter wafted to up him.

"Come on Carter, you gotta admit the guy's a little weird."

"Sir, he acts a heck of a lot like you." She sounded amused.

"Exactly! Nobody's as cheerful as I am without being a little odd. I'm going to have to ask Teal'c what he thinks of this combat expert guy. I don't think he's all he's cracked up to be."

"Well, he has to be good, or they wouldn't send him here. It's not like they'd send an incompetent into the Stargate program." Snake heard the click of an ID card being inserted, a momentary pause, and then the elevator began to descend.

Jack picked up on his next point. "Well, didn't you see General Hammond? He was almost glowing when he escorted Harris in. I've never seen Hammond glow! I've seen him laugh, chuckle, even play Santa once, but not glow!"

Snake grinned as Sam laughed lightly. She replied to his remark, her amusement in her voice. "Well he is a charmer, sir. I think he's kinda cute."

Jack sputtered indignantly. "Come on, he's just imitating me! He knows that I've got the good looks and the charm."

"He's known you less than a week."

There was a pause. "Good point. So, any idea when he's supposed to sneak his way in here?"

Samantha replied with a grin in her voice. "Nope, that's why it's a surprise."

Jack snapped his fingers. "Darn."

The elevator came to a halt, and Snake heard the doors open and the pair walk out, chatting all the while. Captain Carter thought he was cute, eh? Nice to know.

Looking around the shaft, not exactly hopeful about sneaking his way through the corridors unseen, his face broke into a wide grin as he spotted a ventilation shaft opening.

This was _too_ easy.

* * *

Crawling through the air vents was a good idea when it came to getting around unseen and unheard, but yeesh. The SGC's air circulation system was almost too complicated. He paused at every opening to try and orient himself. 

He could see some of the Airmen patrolling with paintball guns, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He was sure that they would have much preferred to be carrying their own real ordinance, but Snake really didn't feel like getting shot a few times just for a training exercise.

One opening took him to the side of Doctor Jackson's office, where Daniel was busy sorting through papers and books, peering at them through his glasses and muttering lowly to himself. _'Heh, just like a young Giles. I should send Giles one of Daniel's old thesis and see how much he scratches his head over it. Then again, Giles might want to meet Daniel, and they'll start talking in Sumerian or something.'_

Snake wiped his brow as he carefully crawled through. It was bloody hot in this thing! He had to remember to wear his bandana next time. It wasn't just a trademark, it had a practical use too. Sweat was such a pain, especially when it dripped into his eyes.

He kept moving slowly, stopping when he reached a shaft right above the briefing room. He grinned to himself, waiting for a moment to determine activity and then unhooked the grate as quietly as he could manage. He dropped down in front of the table, his feet hitting the floor with a thump. He quickly moved up against the wall and waited five seconds, to see if anyone heard it.

Nothing. He could see the Stargate from here, but he couldn't quite reach it. He could hear some activity in the control room beneath him, and by looking down the spiral staircase, he could see some of the technicians. He also got a nice eyeful of Captain Carter's rear as she typed away at the Stargate's control computers.

He lingered for a moment, enjoying the view, and then he slipped away from the briefing room like a wraith. He just had to go down one floor and reach the Stargate, and the mission would be over with.

He had to admit, attempting to infiltrate the most closely guarded military facility on the face of the planet was pretty exhilarating. After a few suggestions from Snake, though, he doubted anybody could get in here undetected, at least, assuming nobody had some wacky alien doo-hickey that made them invisible.

He carefully walked down the spiral staircase, his feet making no noise. Sam and her little group there were apparently running a diagnostic on the Stargate. Lucky thing for him, too. If any of them turned around, it would bring his little jaunt to a halt.

Moving out of the control room and into the corridors, he glanced around cautiously and holding back for a moment. He could hear some of the patrols moving around the corner, and going back wasn't an option. He strode forward towards one of the alcoves, crouched down and held still for a minute.

When the Airman, whose name Snake couldn't remember at the moment, came around the corner, Snake snuck up behind him, grasped him by the neck with his arm and pulled him off. He whispered in the man's ear. "Congratulations, you're dead."

He let go, and the soldier gave a groan of disappointment, turning to face Snake. "Damn, you are good."

Snake gave him a grin. "Thanks. Your paintball gun and ID card, if you please?"

The airman handed them over, and Snake pointed towards the alcove. Though it was brightly lit, there was some cover and he would be out of sight. "I just broke your neck and carried your body over there. Just sit down and relax for a while, this is about over."

As the soldier did as he said, Snake used the ID card on the Gateroom door, strode in with the paintball gun, and with a silly grin on his face, shot the glass with it, startling the technical staff. He gave a wave to Captain Carter. "Heya Samantha, did you miss me?"

Sam smiled despite herself. "You are good, Major. I think you've still got a little problem, though." She spoke into the microphone, her voice echoing through the Gateroom.

There was a hiss of compressed air, and Snake felt the stinging slap of a paintball on his back. He sighed, turning around and clucking his tongue. "You really enjoyed that, didn't you?"

Faith grinned, lowering her paintball gun from her shoulder, laughing at his somewhat injured expression. "You betcha, boytoy. I've been waiting here behind the Stargate for four hours just to pop you one!"

Snake spread his hands, still holding his own gun. "Hey, I had to deal with traffic!"

Then with an evil grin, he whipped his own paintball gun up and shot at Faith, and with a shriek of laughter, she returned a volley from her own.

* * *

General Hammond frowned as he examined the disheveled pair in front of him. Both Major Harris and Captain Lehane were splattered with paint, a testament to the shots they traded in the Gateroom. Harris was trying, without noticeable success, to keep a grin off of his face as he stood at attention. Lehane was outright giggling, despite the red streak of paint in her hair and all over her BDUs. 

"I take it you two enjoyed yourselves?" He spoke with a slight smile of his own.

Alexander grinned. "Yes sir. It's been a long time since Faith and I have had a chance to catch up."

Faith laughed. "We're just getting started, X-man."

Hammond just sighed, rubbing his eyes. Jack was bad enough, but Faith and Alexander added to it was like turning a slight headache into a massive red-hot poker jammed into the back of his head. "All right. Regardless of the play you had at the end of it, you managed to infiltrate this base without being seen, Major. I'd like to know how you did it."

Alexander shrugged. "I'll be the first to say it wasn't exactly easy. I hung onto the bottom of a supply truck to get past the entrance checkpoints, kept out of sight at the parking lot and skirted the cameras, hopped up on top of the elevator and waited until it went down, then I snuck through the air vents til I reached the briefing room. From there, I just stayed out of sight of the technical staff, held up one of the men for his ID card and weapon, and then waltzed into the Gateroom."

General Hammond sighed again, shaking his head. "All right. What would you suggest to make the base more secure?"

Major Harris replied immediately. "Stationary cameras at the parking lot on the elevator and other points of interest. I'd also suggest motion detectors in the air vents, or maybe some kind of pressure panel detection system in there. The ID cards are good, but since I just filched one and could get into the Gateroom, I'd suggest some kind of verification system we can use quickly, like a fingerprint. A combination system might work, slide the card and then push on the plate and away it goes. It'd probably only be needed for the most sensitive areas, though."

Hammond nodded. "Very good. I'll work on those kinds of security measures. Anything else?"

Alexander smiled a bit, relaxing his stance. "Well sir, I've taken a look at the armory. I like most of the equipment, but I'd suggest buying up something for more stealth type missions. I noticed sniper rifles, which is good, but a silenced pistol can be far more deadly than a P90 in the hands of a skilled operative like me." He shared a grin to Faith. "Faith here wouldn't need it, but stealth isn't her style."

Faith laughed. "Well, I do like rough and tumble a lot more."

Hammond smirked. "I noticed. That's why you spent all that time in your hospital bed, young lady. Now go on and get cleaned up you two, I'm sure if you both don't take a shower soon that paint will completely harden on you."

Faith gave Alexander a faintly naughty look. "Is it an order to shower together, sir?"

Alexander blushed. "Hey now, I wouldn't mind, Faith, but not so soon after coming on back. I was in retirement, remember?"

"Go on, you're both dismissed." George Hammond nearly barked, and the pair of mischievous professional soldiers left his office, post-haste.

* * *

Somewhere in Nevada, at the same time. 

The twenty-first century was a time of nearly unlimited possibilities. Gene therapy, a process which could and did alter a person's physiology on the genetic level, had quickly become viable for the shady branches of NID projects and a few unrestrained branches of the military. It would be a number of years before civilian usage became apparent, in removing genes that would cause disease or inserting those that would prevent HIV infection. However, this did not mean that the NID would hesitate to use the process to create excellent and powerful soldiers, based upon the best soldier of the previous century.

This base in the middle of Nevada was a place where such experiments were tested on unwilling subjects. Criminals, mostly. Some of the lethal injections given to some of the worst were in fact, tranquilizers, used so that they could bring the subject here and test out gene therapy techniques.

One of the most unfortunate, however, was even now watching the base burn, the firelight reflecting off the blue and gray exoskeleton that covered his body. He had been kept there for three years, a living torture, a test subject that simply refused to die. It was not hatred that kept him alive, far from it. Instead, it was a simple burning need that could only be quenched by one man.

His audio sensors could hear the screams of the men inside. He tilted his head, trying to remember what it felt like to be burned like that. It wasn't so long ago.

He shifted his sword in his right hand, a sword that hummed dangerously. A benefit to the advances in technology, though archaic. It would not be anywhere nearly as useful in someone else's hand as it was in his.

He rose his head then, a face covered by a silver mask that betrayed no emotion, no expression. Only a small sensor in the center that glowed upon acquiring a target. One of those images occurred to him then, an image that held respect. A memory. And with that memory of the man's face, a name.

"Snake..."

With a flash, the figure seemed to disappear, the firelight distorting oddly through the space it stood. Like a simmering heatwave, the predatory creature of man and machine rippled its way across the desert, unseen by any who might have looked.

* * *

Sunnydale, 1998 

Faith was running through the darkness. The rain poured down upon her as she sought escape from her tormentor.

Buffy strode behind her at a comfortable pace, bloody knife in hand, but no matter how fast Faith ran, she could not escape her blonde pursuer. Faith just grew more and more tired as she ran, and eventually she stumbled and fell...

Into an open grave. Buffy came to a halt at the top, glaring down at her. With a feral smile, the blonde Slayer jumped down into the grave with her, brandishing the knife with a gleeful look of murder in her eyes.

Even as it occurred, Faith could not have told anybody what form their confrontation took place as. In some odd way, forcing her into a corner, leaving her no other option but to fight, was her salvation.

The pair struggled in the darkness of the grave for a few moments, the torrential downpour of her mind adding to the struggle. It was not a battle of fist and foot, but a battle of wills, desperation to live against the need to flee from the object of her torment.

Desperation won.

Faith climbed out of the grave, lifting her head to the falling rain, letting out a cry of agony mixed with exhilaration at finally having conquered her demons.

And a moment later, deep in the Initiative base, Faith opened her eyes, tore out her IV lines and rose from her bed, screaming in frustration that she had managed to escape from the prison of her mind only to find herself in a new one, a prison that was all too real.

* * *

Well, what do ya think? 

I rather liked writing this part out, brought back some fond memories of the original MGS.

Anyway, it's time for me to get some sleep, so I'll work on the next part later. Please, I really do appreciate feedback, comments, suggestions, anything. Don't feel shy about speaking up!

Later all.

Nick.


	5. Fox and the Hounds

Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake's Beginnings Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Aww, you mean I'm not a rich man who owns this stuff? Pity. Well, I guess I'm going to have to forget about signing those savings bonds and all that.

And now, my replies to your reviews. readers:

shinotenshi: Shadow Moses hasn't happened yet, the Stargate period in the fic fills in that time period for Snake's life. However, Xander does well enough to become legendary for three reasons: One, he needs physical training, not as much mental training. The soldier memories give him a shortcut, but they don't make him a great soldier to start with. Two, he's being trained by the best of the best even before his first mission. Three, he's an engineered clone of the best soldier around. He doesn't go into a Shadow Moses situation as a rookie, but instead into Outer Heaven as a rookie, just how I want it to be. You'll see as I get further into it.

Ronin100: I'm not going to announce any kind of relationship pairing right now. This fic is still very fluid and developing as I write it. F/X is a definite possibility, and it's on the table, but I need to consider what, where, when and how.

Lennox RH: Indeed, the SGC is much in place of Shadow Moses, however because this is all happening in the Stargate universe, it gives me much more freedom to develop the storyline in the direction I'm trying to push it in. It's quite a lot of fun, actually.

HolyKnight5: At this point, there's no need for FOX-DIE. It was made to kill off the Next-Gen Special Forces and the FOX-HOUND unit in MGS, it's just not needed here, and without a Naomi Hunter to make it and reprogram it, it would bring the story to a grinding halt.

ChaosRonin: Otacon will appear...eventually. It'll be a while. Poor guy.

Dr Gero: Good thing on pointing out the timeline. I'm still writing it as 1998 in Sunnydale at this point because Halloween and Christmas has not yet passed since Graduation Day, and I based Season 3's date as 1998 based on Mister Trick's comment. (Slayerfest '98!) And I had not remembered that Christmas of that year happened after that event, and not before. My mistake. I should have looked it up, but I neglected. Oh well. It will be 1999 soon enough, though, and the story still does fit together.

Anyway, let's get started.

* * *

Sunnydale, 1998. 

Faith's prison was well-designed, there was no question about that. She'd managed to extricate herself from her bonds on the bed easily enough, the designer apparently underestimated her strength there, but the electrified glass barrier was enough to send her reeling, and she had nothing to break it with. Someone had apparently decided to actually make her bed out of a single block of metal that was welded to the floor, and the same with the machinery in the room.

She considered her options as she looked out through the barrier. Even if she managed to escape, there wasn't any chance of getting a fair hearing from Buffy. She had planned to feed her to Angel to cure the poison Faith had inflicted him with.

While it was understandable, it was also very, very cold.

Willow? No, Red would just side with Buffy, whatever her decision. She knew Oz was a cool guy, at least cool enough to listen to her, but she doubted he would give her a lot of time. She didn't think he'd understand. While he undoubtably knew about losing control, she didn't think he had any idea what it was like to hit complete rock-bottom as she did.

Hell, the only person who seemed to be willing to help her out of it was the Mayor. And considering she found herself in a high-tech cell instead of waking up in a nice and comfortable apartment or a normal hospital she didn't think he was going to be busting her out of there anytime soon.

She absently rubbed her stomach, wincing at the memory of the pain where Buffy had stabbed her. She glanced down, pulling up her hospital gown and noticing there wasn't any scar.

'_How long have I been out? Geez, I look like a fashion model, I've barely got any meat on my bones at all. Damn it, I'm hungry now. I must have been asleep for ages, and the bad part is I feel so tired. You'd think getting a lot of sleep you'd feel refreshed, but noooo.'_

She chewed on her lip as her thoughts strayed over the past months, at least those she could remember. Xander had saved her life, and she'd thrown him out in the hall in his underwear afterwards. But, she'd seen the scars on his body, the kind of thing that she'd seen on her own.

Then she'd killed Alan Finch, accidently. His face haunted her, and she'd tried to put it out of her mind. But then...something drew her to the Mayor, and he seemed so charismatic, so helpful, cheerful and caring, like the father she never had.

And yet, he had been planning to turn into a demonic snake and eat all the students of Sunnydale High, in a very cold-blooded and matter-of-fact way. Why had she been willing to go along with it? Come to think of it, why had she been willing to kill for him, so happily? Was the clean apartment and Playstation worth her humanity?

Well, maybe the apartment. Almost anything was worth getting out of the Sunnydale Motor Lodge. That place was disgusting almost beyond belief.

A sneer spread across her face as she considered something. Buffy knew she had been staying in that place, and she didn't even offer to help her out in any way. Was she so stuck-up that she wasn't able to consider that somebody might not like living in those conditions and would like a way out? Sure, Faith wouldn't accept a charity case, but Buffy could have at least offered, and Faith could have contributed or something.

Maybe if...

No. It wouldn't do any good to focus on what-if's right now. She had to get out of this cell, and maybe then find Xander or Angel. Something had been seriously wrong with her joining with the Mayor, but the Scoobs hadn't been all that good either. At least Angel had been trying to help, and Faith thought Xander would be at least able to sympathize and consider her point of view. Maybe. Depending on how long it had been since she kicked him out into the hall in his boxers. Or since how long it had been since she tried to kill him.

God, that was stupid. It was just like her to screw something that just might possibly be good for her because she was insecure, or scared. The woman everybody saw was not the one she wanted to be. To anybody else, it would seem odd for her to be scared of a simple guy, a normal guy, nonetheless, since she was the Slayer and could break him in half. But, perhaps that was the problem. She wasn't as tough as she appeared to be, and she was always scared of being found out. If she displayed weakness, it always resulted in pain before, and she hadn't seen anything to assume it wouldn't remain that way.

She moved up to the glass barrier and touched it with her fingertip. She winced and jerked her hand back as the electricity flowed into her hand, causing it to sting and then tingle.

It was painful, there was no doubt about that, but if she hit it fast enough...

She stepped back towards the back of the cell, taking a deep breath and steeling herself. She held in her breath as she put her entire body weight behind the strength of her punch.

The electricity ripped through her body, forcing a scream of agony from her lips. Her hand broke, her knuckles bleeding profusely. Yet, the glass cracked, the current faded, and Faith grinned. She kicked at the glass barrier now, splintering it in half along the crack, and the barrier fell outward in two halves.

Instantly, alarms started blaring. Cursing herself for not considering this possibility, she dashed out of that cell. She burst out into another room, one that made her gag.

On an operating table was a massive creature that was pieced together out of human and demonic parts. She could make out stitches across his face where the human and demonic flesh was joined together. There was also quite a bit of metal here and there throughout his body, hinting that he had mechanical parts inside that massive body, not just human or demonic organs.

Even where Faith stood, and with her less-than-perfect knowledge of demonic anatomy, she could see the monestrous abomination was incomplete. There was no left arm, but the rest of the creature looked just about ready.

The monster's eyes opened, and he sat up on his table. He studied her intently, and Faith settled back into a defensive stance. The fact that she was clad in only a hospital gown didn't help. As he got to his feet, the only thing he seemed to see was her, and he was utterly fascinated by her presence. He got to his feet, tilting his head and studying her closely.

Taking a chance, Faith moved forward and slammed her fists into the Frankenstein reject's chest. The monster fell back with a grunt, but as Faith tried to follow-up, it raised his single arm and blocked her attack. Faith quickly recovered, sweeping the creature's legs out from under him and making it fall to the floor.

Before it had even hit the ground, however, Faith was running towards the exit door. She was stopped as the creature's hand grabbed her leg, and she fell to the floor face-first. Twisting her body, she latched her hands on his wrists and pulled on his arm with all of the strength she could muster.

It gave a grunt of pain as Faith literally tore his arm off, and it struggled weakly on the floor. Getting to her feet, she slammed through the exit door just as a doctor was trying to enter, and the glasses wearing fellow hit the ground hard. She quickly punched him in the face, before stealing his lab coat and running down the halls. Slipping on the coat, she stopped at a T-junction and on instinct, she ran to the left into a large training room, which was thankfully empty at the moment.

Spotting an air duct, she pulled off the grate, jumped in and replaced it. Not a moment too soon, as thirty seconds later soldiers flooded the room, looking around in every nook and cranny. With some effort, she slowly climbed up the shaft, partially to remain quiet, and partially because of her weakened condition.

Biting her lip, she climbed, knowing that if she fell, she would never have another chance.

* * *

Xander awoke to the sound of Riley knocking on the door to his room. He blinked away his sleep as he sat up, quickly moving over to the door and opening it for him. 

Riley looked at Xander gravely. "Get your stuff on, we've got an escapee from the Initiative. Walsh wants to see us in ten minutes."

Xander nodded and shut the door, gathering a set of clean combat fatigues and roughly rubbed his face, trying to wake up entirely. He wasn't yet used to getting by on a few hours sleep, nonetheless trying to scramble for an emergency.

He didn't know that, as he was busy getting dressed, the two FOX-HOUND operatives were waiting by the elevator, talking lowly.

Graham was shaking his head. "Did you see Ocelot? I've never seen him that cheerful. He was actually whistling as he gave me the info."

Riley rose an eyebrow. "A happy Ocelot. That's a scary thought. Maybe Big Boss gave him a pay raise?"

Graham laughed. "Maybe. I don't know, I think I actually prefer him in his normal, Clint Eastwood fan self, not this extremely happy guy."

Riley shared Graham's grin. "We'll just not visit him unless we have to. I don't think I could handle an Ocelot on a mood swing."

Graham gave Riley a little salute, actively trying to suppress a grin as Xander came around the corner, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Morning. Or evening. Whatever. I'm really hating this schedule."

Riley slapped Xander on the shoulder with a smile. "Relax, you'll be fine when we get suited up and out there."

The trio paused in front of the mirror, waited a few seconds for the retinal scanners to activate and scan them. When the mirror slid back, they all walked in.

Riley gave Xander a grin. "So, did this little emergency interrupt your dreams of the pretty girls, Xander?" He leaned over to the voice recorder. "Pretty, girls."

"Vocal pattern recognized." The machine responded.

Xander shrugged. "Nah, no worries. It was just coming up to the part where the gal in question either tries to kill me or offers me cotton candy. With her wrapped in it." He pouted then. "As you can imagine, I look forward to my dreams with equal parts dread and eagerness."

Riley chuckled as Graham laughed.

* * *

Doctor Walsh was giving Graham, Riley and Xander suspicious glances as the rest of the Initiative agents filed in. As the twenty or so agents sat down for the briefing, Xander seemed to be studying everything around him. 

By no means was he an exemplary soldier, he was about as good as any of the fresh recruits however. He could definitely hold his own end of any fight in Sunnydale, at any rate. She didn't like the growing friendship between him and Finn, however. She wanted Finn to be her right hand, his tactical expertise was extraordinary and he aced every aspect of combat she'd seen him train with. His friendship with Harris, however, was manageable. All she'd have to do is addict both Finn and Harris to some of the specialty made drugs here at the Initiative.

At the worst, she'd have one excellent soldier and one pile of parts to use for demonic soldiers, and at best she'd have two excellent soldiers under her every command, which she could mold and shape into what she desired. That was the only thing that kept her from offing Harris entirely.

She cleared her throat as all the agents took their seats. "All right, we don't have a lot of time." She picked up her remote control, pointed it at a fairly large television set behind her and clicked a button. Her escaped test subject appeared. "This is Hostile thirteen, she is to be captured under any and all circumstances. If she leaves you no other options, kill her. Use your best equipment and whatever you do, do not damage her too much. I need to study her intensively."

Harris looked a bit uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. "Is there a problem, Agent Harris?" She spoke, all of her attention focusing on him.

Harris shook his head. "No ma'am. Just used to the demons being a bit uglier. It won't be a problem."

Walsh nodded. "Good. She escaped less than half an hour ago, she'll likely be on foot. I want a full search pattern of the town. I do not want her getting away, she is extremely dangerous."

Finn stood up and came to the front. "We've got a lot of ground to cover and not much time to do it. I'll want all of you working in pairs. Harris and I will search the suburban area. Miller and Gates will take the parks. Michaels,.Redfield, your teams should cover the roads and railways. The rest of you sweep the outlying areas. She can pass for human, so don't attack her if she's in the middle of a group. Keep in radio contact. Let's move people, she isn't going to sit around waiting for us to pick her up."

* * *

After crawling through the air vents for ten minutes, finding an exit to the surface was fairly easy, once Faith found the intake shaft. All she had to do was go against the breeze the whole way, although the effort made her weakened limbs ache and her hands stiff against the fairly cold metal. 

Stealing clothes from a clothesline wasn't too difficult either. Somebody had been completely stupid to leave their belongings hanging out there during the night, it was practically asking for some skulking vampire, demon, or desperate escapee Slayer to grab. At least this night, it was the last option of the three, and Faith was rather grateful for other people's stupidity.

Wearing ill-fitting jeans and a jean jacket, and unfortunately barefoot, she cautiously moved through the backyards and staying off the streets, making for Angel's mansion. She hadn't quite realized how uncomfortable it was to move around barefoot, and the morning dew had made her feet very cold and stiff. She would have given almost anything to get her old, comfortable set of army boots.

It was to her dismay that she found it empty. A fairly thick layer of dust was strewn about the floor, there was no furniture or comforts, and even the wood in the fireplace was long burnt down to embers. There was some trash strewn about, mute evidence that some of those down on their luck had stayed there during the night, perhaps to avoid the creatures out there in the dark. A musty, foul smell hung over the place. Everything added up to one conclusion in Faith's mind.

Angel wasn't here. She was alone.

Sinking to her knees, she finally broke down and wept.

* * *

"Riley, I've gotta tell you something, and if you pass it onto Walsh, I'm going to have to kill you." Xander spoke quietly as he carefully walked through Sunnydale's suburbs, Riley covering his back.

Riley smirked to himself at the thought of Xander even trying to kill him, the younger man had some potential, and had come a long way through the crash course training, but he wouldn't have a chance against Riley as he was. "What is it, Xander?"

"This hostile isn't a demon. She's a Slayer, and she's human."

That made Riley pause. "Well sonofabitch. You sure?"

Xander turned and nodded. "Buffy and Faith fought last year, and it put Faith into a coma. I haven't got any idea what Faith wants now, but she doesn't deserve to get dissected on Walsh's operating table. Besides, I want to talk to her."

Riley considered the situation, biting his lip and frowning a bit. "All right." He tuned his radio frequency to something Xander couldn't see and then pushed the transmit button on his radio. "This is Golf Foxtrot, Sierra Sierra come in."

"I read you, Foxtrot. What's the situation?" Graham's voice floated over the radio.

"Code ten-one-seventeen, over." Riley spoke clearly.

A pause. Then: "Understood, Foxtrot. What's your situation?"

"I'm going to take Harris to Big Boss. We'll organize a secondary search and rescue operation. The target is human, she is not to be harmed under any circumstances. Use tranquilizers, no lethal weapons, and under no circumstances go hand-to-hand. Organize the men, you'll get reinforcements within an hour or so. Foxtrot out." Riley cut the transmission, smiling a bit at Xander's puzzled face.

"What the heck was that about?" Xander exclaimed.

"Simple. My boss has a standing order on Walsh. If she steps out of line, we move in and take care of it. Experimenting on demons to find their weaknesses is fine, as well as trying out cybernetics, but testing on people is on the 'do not ever do' list. It was even in her contract. Order ten-one-seventeen is to let all the men know that Walsh isn't calling the shots anymore."

"Who is, then?"

"General John Hayter. Come on, I'll introduce you to him, and we'll work out how to find Faith as soon as possible."

* * *

Big Boss frowned as he watched the surveillance tapes. "Ocelot, you have got to be kidding me. All you picked up on two weeks of recordings was personal conversations about boys between Rosenberg and Summers, general moping between Giles and his girlfriend, a complete lack of activity from Osborne and a few requests for my son to pick up donuts and research musty old books!" 

Ocelot spread his hands, stepping back from Big Boss. "Sorry, Boss. I know you've been looking for more info on the boy's potential, but aside from what Fox has told us, there isn't much. I mean, I found a report buried deep in the police's files about Harris possibly being responsible for stealing a rocket launcher almost two years ago. But for the most part, he just seems to have hung in the background."

Big Boss grumbled to himself. "Fine. We'll worry about it later. He did well in his training, so that's something anyway."

They were sitting in a study room in the flat Ocelot was renting out, and in which Big Boss was going over all the information Ocelot had collected. There was a desk, a television set on which Big Boss' attention was fixed at the moment, and a radio sitting on the desk, which was nearly overwhelmed with files.

The radio crackled to life on their scrambled frequency. Gray Fox's voice came on, slightly overlain with static. Big Boss smiled slightly as Fox gave Silver Snake, and by extension, the rest of the Initiative troops under Big Boss' command order ten-one-seventeen. He then frowned as Gray Fox mentioned he would bring Harris to him, but he wasn't entirely displeased. While he would have preferred to wait before meeting his son/clone, there was no way for Fox to know this.

He moved over to Ocelot's desk, quickly filing away the intelligence files on the Sunnydale vigilante group. It wouldn't do for his son to realize that he was keeping tabs on them the entire time. Ocelot rose an eyebrow and spoke lowly. "Want me to get lost, Boss?"

He looked at Ocelot with his single eye. "I'd appreciate it. Whatever happens, I don't want him to know too much about us just yet, and I don't want you standing over my shoulder." He gave Ocelot a slight glare, tapping his eyepatch. "That last thing I need is for you to provide your special presence to my first meeting with my son."

Ocelot nodded, backing out of the room and heading off towards the bedrooms and thankfully out of sight. No doubt the partially crazy Western movie fanatic would spend the entire time listening through the wall while cleaning his revolver. The only one he had remaining since Big Boss and Ocelot had met back in 1964. Back then, Ocelot had carried three. One was lost in a river, the other Ocelot had given to Big Boss, which the one-eyed man had set in a frame in his office at FOX-HOUND headquarters. If there was one thing Ocelot respected, it was a warrior, and despite being on opposite sides then, they had developed respect for the other. The Way of the Warrior.

He took a deep breath as he heard a knock on the door, Riley's typical double-rap. "Come on in, Finn." He spoke, sitting in his chair behind the desk and preparing for his first look at his son.

Riley opened the door to the study, closely followed by an image that Big Boss would have had to do a double-take, had he not been prepared for it. To see the photograph was one thing, but to see a nearly exact duplicate of yourself some fifty years younger was something else. His single blue eye focused on Harris' two brown ones, seeing a look of trepidation and some respect towards the old man. Harris slouched slightly, something Big Boss hadn't done since he was a young man himself. Harris' frame was also quite a bit thinner than Big Boss' had been at that age, but then, Big Boss had already been in training to the best back then.

Big Boss sat back in his chair, pursing his lips as he mentally measured his son up. On the one hand, his appearance wasn't anything more than a usual Army grunt, and most of that was likely due to his preliminary training with Gray Fox. Yet, he had survived on an active Hellmouth for his entire life and come out of that hellish home environment without breaking. Pushing the thoughts aside for a moment, he gave a smile to Xander. "Please, take a seat kid. I'm General Hayter."

Xander had spent those same moments examining Big Boss. The eyepatch was a whole lot of questions right there, but he forced himself to keep his lips shut. Xander may not have been the brightest person around, but only a complete idiot would ask a four star...yes, four star General how he lost his eye just after meeting that person. "Umm.. Good to meet you, sir." He made a somewhat awkward salute, and then pulled up a chair and sat down, making an effort not to squirm under the one-eyed man's gaze.

Riley took up a position behind Xander, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Big Boss was only somewhat aware of his best man's curious looks as the old man framed his thoughts. "I heard on the radio that Walsh sent the Initiative troops out after a human. I'm guessing you know this woman?"

Xander nodded. "Yes sir. I think we should tone down the search though. Faith isn't going to simply stand around waiting to get captured, escaping from the base has probably made her desperate and she isn't going to be taking too many chances." He paused for a moment. "But then, she may not be entirely sane either. I just know anybody you send after her is likely to end up dead if they're not careful. I might be able to talk her down, but it's not a guarantee. I don't think she deserves to die, though."

Big Boss frowned slightly. His son was evidently tied up with this woman to a fair degree. He nodded slowly. "All right. Do you have any idea where she might go?"

Xander thought about it for a minute. "She doesn't know where I live, or lived, so she won't go to my place. Nor would she go to Willow's. She might go to Giles', but if I had to take a guess, she'd probably go to Buffy's place or..."

Big Boss raised an eyebrow, the one that Xander could see, the other hidden by his eyepatch. "Or?"

"I'd say Angel's place, but Angel's left town." Xander finished. He turned to Riley. "You remember the mansion at Crawford Street?"

Riley nodded. "Yeah, I know it." Riley looked to Big Boss. "Want me to put a recon team on it, Boss?"

Big Boss nodded at that. "Do it. Remind the men, tranquilizers only. And send Silver after Walsh, she is not supposed to pull stunts like this."

* * *

Meanwhile, Walsh was busy working on her creation. The Slayer's escape had quite badly damaged ADAM when he tried to stop her. She'd ripped off his right arm, and she hadn't yet been able to install a left one. The demon she'd been hoping to use for a left arm had yet to be hunted down. 

Now she was forced to improvise a bit. She'd stitched ADAM's right arm back on, both her scientific interest and sheer delight peaked as the demonic flesh healed itself and connected again. ADAM twitched his fingers, emotionlessly testing the function of his newly restored limb. When she was done, she picked up a piece of work she'd been hoping to use on EVE.

It was a completely mechanical left arm. Given ADAM's cybernetic integration, she was certain he'd be able to use it easily. It was a bit small, especially for her creation's massive frame, but she felt she was running out of time. The radio chatter from the hunting Initiative troops had died off.

"ADAM?" She spoke, as she connected the wires of his left forearm to the rest of the mechanical body.

"Yes mother?" The monstrosity rumbled. He had been programmed to respond that way to her, although she would never guess that there were flaws in that programming. Human children rarely attacked their mothers, demons often did. It was only a matter of time before ADAM followed his demonic instincts and killed her.

"You'll protect me, won't you?"

A smile crossed his hideous pieced-together face. "Of course mother. I'll never allow anyone to keep you from finishing your work."

Both mechanical monster and his creator were unaware as the expert FOX-HOUND commando by the name of Silver Snake was even now entering the Initiative complex, ready to raid the armory for lethal weaponry and to carry out his mission.

* * *

That's it for now, folks. I know this has been a bit slower than before, but life always does get in the way. I'm still working on this, no worries. 

No Stargate part here, but as before, what's coming up relies on what happens here. So don't worry too much, SGC fans.

Let me know what you think.

Later all.

Nick.


	6. Missions

Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake's Beginnings Chapter 6

Disclaimer: If anybody's still paying attention, you know I don't own anything here. So let's not worry about it, okay?

Some of the names of the characters here I'm just pulling off the top of my head, usually as stand-ins to round things out. I try to use these people sparingly, but it's unavoidable sometimes.

Now as for my reviewers..

Agent-G: While I'm not adverse to a simple Stargate/Metal Gear cross, I don't have at this time any plan to write another fic of just those two. As I wrote earlier, I had a plot bunny, and they don't always just pop up when needed. Keep in mind however, this is called Snake's Beginnings for a reason. There will be more, a lot more, in the way of Stargate and less Buffy stuff as this fic progresses. I'm trying to get Snake started, not simply plunk him down. Metal Gear fans may be a little irritated at this, but with what I've done I need to remold a character.

Also, if I'm writing a bit off, it would help to know in what way. That's a little too general for me to try and fix it.

Let's get this started, shall we?

Revised on May 21, 2006 because of technical problems. Sorry bout the trouble, fellas.

* * *

Cheyenne Mountain, 2006 

"You would, you know." Snake spoke to Colonel O'Neill as they walked down the halls towards Carter's laboratory.

"No. There's no way I'm going to." Jack replied, looking something between amused and offended.

"Come on! My friends would be jealous! Just one photo!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't do it for all the tea in China, Major Harris."

Snake paused for a moment. That tone of voice was enough to make just about anybody pause. Jack O'Neill rarely used that tone on anybody, he was usually too humorous. "All right, all right, I'll drop it. I'm just saying you would if you just let your hair grow out a little."

Jack protested just as they entered the recently promoted Major Carter's laboratory. "I would not!"

Sam looked up as the strangely matched pair entered, a small smirk crossing her face as she realized that both had come along to examine some of her work as well as see how she was doing. "Hey guys, what's going on?"

Jack turned to her, trusting in his teammate's judgement. "Carter, do you think I'd look like MacGuyver if I grew a mullet?"

Sam tilted her head, biting her lip as she considered it. "Well, if you dyed your hair and straightened up a bit..."

Snake grinned at Jack. "See, told you. You'd be a dead ringer for him with a mullet."

Jack rose his voice. "I am not growing a mullet!" He turned to Sam. "So, what's the little toy you've been working on?"

Sam immediately perked up, pausing just long enough to summarize the physics behind it. She was sure that neither Major Harris nor Colonel O'Neill would be able to follow some of the more abstract concepts like pulse-laser generation, light-refraction or naquadah power generation. "Well, you may have noticed that Teal'c's staff weapon never needs to be recharged or reloaded."

Jack nodded at that, while Snake tilted his head. "That's useful, but I've heard it's a pretty slow weapon. The zatnika...zatnishu..."

Jack slapped Snake's shoulder. "I just call them zats. It's quicker."

Snake grinned. "Zat it is then. I heard that's a bit faster and more useful, but just looking at it I'd say it's probably a little difficult to aim."

Sam nodded. "Right, so I figured that the weapons had to have some kind of on-site power generation. Basically, they've got naquadah batteries that can last thousands, or tens of thousands of years if they're not fired. So, I took apart one of the zats that we captured during Apophis' attack on Earth."

Snake crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to the door. "I'm guessing you're trying to figure out how to create energy weapons, now that we have a few alien weapons to look over?"

Jack grinned almost like a little boy. "Does this mean I get a phaser of my own, Carter?"

Sam just grinned, shaking her head. "Sorry sir. With some work, I can probably create a laser pulse kind of weapon with naquadah batteries, so it wouldn't need to be reloaded, but it would probably be quite heavy without a naquadah power cell, and heavy enough even with one. Still, there's some theories out there about how to make laser weapons for combat situations, and with the level of power we can get from something like this we can test them out."

Jack nodded slowly. "Great. Just let me know where the stun setting is on whatever you make with this doo-hickey you're designing. I'm sure the Gould won't be happy to be on the receiving end of whatever you cook up."

Snake smiled, nodding to Sam. "Well, be sure to give me one of these things when it's finished, my fellow Major. I like being able to test weapons out before I have to use them. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a sparring match with Teal'c." As he turned to walk out the door, he paused. "Congratulations on the promotion, by the way."

* * *

Teal'c was rather impressed in his sparring partner's abilities as the large Jaffa and the substantially smaller Snake traded light blows barehanded. "I am unfamiliar with the fighting style you are employing MajorHarris." He spoke, quickly flicking his hand towards Snake's face, which the smaller man dodged fairly easily. 

Snake threw a couple of light punches towards Teal'c's midsection that the Jaffa blocked, calling upon his own extensive experience. "It's called CQC, Teal'c. It's a fairly simple but effective form of close-quarters combat, and basically you can use it with any kind of weapon that fits in one hand. My old boss developed it, he trained his students, and that student trained me."

The pair kept trading light blows for a bit, feeling out the other's fighting style. Abruptly, Teal'c went on the offensive, intending to try and knock Snake off-balance. Instead of succeeding, however, Snake grabbed Teal'c arm and used the Jaffa's momentum against him, flipping him onto the mat. Had this been a battle, Snake would have instantly moved in and pressed his foot against Teal'c's neck, and for a fleeting instant his instinct nearly made him do so. Instead, Snake stepped back, letting Teal'c get to his feet once more.

Once Teal'c was ready again, Snake stepped forward on the offensive. Teal'c was far more cautious now, anticipating Snake's punches and pushing them away before they could hit him. With a quick movement, Teal'c pushed Snake off-balance. Before Teal'c could push Snake to the mat, however, Snake recovered, ducking under Teal'c's arms and twisting to the side, holding his arms in front of his upper body defensively.

Snake stood up straight with a grin, hands raised to signal the spar at an end. "You know Teal'c, I think if we put our heads together we could probably develop a decent style we could use out there. Why don't you show me some Jaffa techniques, I show you some CQC, and try to see what we can learn from the other, hm?"

Teal'c smiled slightly, but his eyes were gleaming. "I do believe that would be acceptable, MajorHarris."

* * *

About two hours later, Snake was in his room, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, ignoring the dull throbbing pain of his muscles and the few bruises he picked up while sparring against Teal'c. 

When it came down to it, Teal'c and Snake were very, very close when fighting against the other. Teal'c was stronger, bigger and had more stamina, while Snake was a good deal lighter, faster and had that deadly killer instinct that had made him legendary. Snake was better in hand-to-hand by the slimmest of margins, closer than even he and Gray Fox had been in Zanzibar. With Teal'c learning from Snake in every spar, even Snake would eventually be outclassed by the Jaffa eventually. The only reason it would take any time at all is because Snake would be learning from Teal'c almost as much.

Naturally, Teal'c was far better with a quarterstaff than Snake was, too. It wasn't much of a surprise, considering the Staff Weapon was the standard weapon of choice for Jaffa for thousands of years, and techniques had developed around it. Teal'c was a master, and it showed. The technique was so highly refined, in fact, that Snake believed that Teal'c had been trained by another master, perhaps in a long line of such. It made the history of CQC seem pitifully thin, even though Big Boss' technique was highly adaptable and deadly.

There was a knock at his door, and he called out. "It's open." Taking that as an invitation, Faith opened the door and walked in, closing it behind her and pulling up a chair, putting her feet up on the bed near his own.

"How ya doing, X?" She asked with a slight smile. He always liked that smile.

"I'm doing all right, Faith." He replied, then smirked. "Or is it Huntress? You were the only one in FOX-HOUND to get a codename that wasn't based on an animal."

She returned his smirk. "Well, at least you didn't get codenamed Hyena."

Snake groaned. "I never should have told you that story."

She gave him a smile, clapping her hands. "Too late. Still, I owe you a lot. You helped me out in Sunny D, then in Zanzibar." Her face grew serious, looking at his features sympathetically. "I heard what you did there. I can't imagine how hard it was for you to fight Fox."

Snake sighed. The memory was painful enough, he wouldn't deny it had been hard having to kill his best friend. If it wasn't for Riley and Faith, the man who would become Solid Snake never would have recovered after leaving Sunnydale. And after Outer Heaven, he'd nearly driven himself insane with the nightmares, faces of all the people he killed. Granted, every one of them was a mercenary that was working towards starting a nuclear war, but that didn't just fix anything. Solid Snake still took their lives.

Finally, he spoke his thoughts. "It wasn't anything personal there, we were just two soldiers on opposite sides. Still, you're right, it wasn't easy. Riley had been a good friend, and taking him out was something I never thought I'd have to do, or want to. Riley needed to fight, a battlefield to be on. Since the typical threat a Slayer takes on has been driven deep underground, the only place he could fight was in a war he helped start."

Faith nodded slowly, reaching forward and grasping his hand. "But not you, huh?"

Snake shook his head. "Nah, I'll admit it feels damn good to be in the middle of a fight, but I can live without it. I went to Zanzibar for two reasons." He gave her a slight smile. "One, to help you out, and two, because while having nightmares about the people I would have to kill there would haunt me, knowing I did jack shit while they started a nuclear war would haunt me a hell of a lot more."

He rose his head slightly then, looking Faith in the eyes. "That's why I came here to the SGC. Campbell gave me a quick briefing in my cabin, but it was enough to get me to read more. These snakehead things will be happy enough to grind us underfoot, and I couldn't live with myself if I let them enslave our world all over again."

Faith squeezed his hand lightly, with understanding. "Well, I get it X. Anyway, Hammond wants to see you, we're going out on a mission with SG-2. Probably going to need your mad skills out there."

Snake grunted. "Great."

* * *

Waiting in the briefing room, Snake had his hands folded in front of him as Faith briefly introduced him to Major Louis Ferretti, the team leader of SG-2 and apparently his commanding officer. He couldn't help but smile as he shook Ferretti's hand. "I hope Faith hasn't been giving you too much trouble out in the field, hm?" 

Lou grinned. "No less than the trouble Jack, Daniel, Charles and I picked up during the Abydos mission." He sighed then. "I still miss Kowalski, he didn't deserve to die because some parasitic snake lodged into his head."

Snake nodded sympathetically. "We've all lost friends, sometime or another. At least he didn't get through the gate, I know I wouldn't want to be running around throughout the galaxy a prisoner in my own body. I'm sure he'd agree with me."

Faith spoke up. "Come on guys, let's take a seat. General Hammond's on his way in."

As the three soldiers took their seats, General Hammond strode into the room. He frowned slightly at Snake and Faith, but both were now completely serious and attentive. He turned to Snake then. "I hope you're prepared for your first mission through the Stargate, Major Harris."

Snake nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be, General."

Picking up a remote control, General Hammond dimmed the lights in the room and an image appeared on the white screen, cast from a projector. "Yesterday, SG-3 went on a recon mission to P3X-706. They found that a fairly minor Gould by the name of Vesta was using the planet as a construction site to build some long-range ships, Al'kesh class. The first one is nearly complete. Apparently, the planet was chosen because it has a substantial amount of naquadah."

Snake bit his lip, smiling slightly as Faith groaned. "Great," she spoke, "We just have to hope that other powerfreaks don't know the planet's a golden prize. I'm guessing we need to take it nice and quick?."

Hammond nodded. "Exactly. We have two mission objectives, the first is to either destroy or capture the Al'kesh under construction, and the second is to secure the naquadah mines. SG-3 reports that Vesta is using a number of slaves for the task of mining, so we'll have to do what we can to free these people."

Snake crossed his arms. "Any idea on the defenses?"

Hammond nodded. "Colonel Makepeace reports that there's about fifty Jaffa on site, give or take a dozen. Typical armament, staff weapons, their shock grenades. There's also an emplacement for staff cannon fire. Those things can take out Death Gliders, even Al'keshes if fired properly."

Snake nodded as Lou Ferretti spoke up. "We'll keep that in mind. When do we ship out?"

Hammond grimaced a bit. "Teal'c says the Al'kesh will be finished in two days, based upon the pictures we brought back. You'll have until then to take over or destroy the site."

Snake considered the odds. Highly stacked in the enemy's favor. That was quite familiar. "Anyone going with us?"

"SG-3 will back you up. Colonel Makepeace and Major Sampson will cover your backs with sniper support. This is one situation we might need your expertise, Major Harris." Hammond replied.

"I'll do what I can."

* * *

As Faith and Snake followed Ferretti and Makepeace, along with the rest of SG-2, towards the Stargate, completely suited up, Snake couldn't help but feel that familiar, rising anticipation of the battle. He'd always felt invigorated, knowing he was about to go into a fight. It had been that way since he'd awoken the killer instinct. He carried his P90 professionally, as if he'd been using one for years, and a SOCOM tactical handgun, fitted with silencer, was strapped to his hip. 

Faith gave him a smile at his side. "You're raring to go, aren't you X?"

Snake gave her a grin. "Yup." He paused for a moment, pulling his blue bandana out of his pocket and tying it around his head. "How bout you, Faith?"

She returned his grin, almost viciously. "Always, boytoy."

"If you two lovebirds are done, the show's about to begin." Lou spoke to them, his tone disapproving but a slight smirk on his face.

Sergeant Walter Harriman was busy doing his usual announcing of the chevrons as they were dialed in. The Stargate's inner ring spun around easily like a well-oiled machine, the chevrons locking in on the symbols as they went. Finally, Walter cried out. "Chevron seven locked!" And the Stargate activated, a glowing eruption of energy resembling water flowed outwards from the gate before falling back into a stable event horizon.

From the control room, Colonel O'Neill stood watching with his arms crossed, a slight smile on his face as he knelt down and spoke into the microphone. "Hey Lou, remember our bet!"

Lou turned and faced the glass, giving Jack a grin. "You got it. Your twenty says bandana boy here can't hold it."

Snake laughed lightly as he hefted his P90. "Only twenty bucks, Colonel? For shame."

With a chuckle, SG-2 and 3 headed for the Stargate.

* * *

Sunnydale, 1998 

Silver Snake, Graham Miller, easily slipped into the Initiative. Avoiding the surveillance, he slipped into the armory, trading his tranquilizer rifle for an AK-47. He always had a combat knife with him, so he wasn't terribly worried about whatever situation may arise. Graham took a couple of spare clips for the weapon, anticipating that it would not be terribly difficult to kill Walsh. She was a scientist, not a warrior, and taking her out wouldn't be difficult at all for one of his skills.

Slipping into the halls, he paused for the briefest of moments before moving towards Walsh's private laboratories. If the mad scientist would be anywhere while the troops were out hunting, it'd be in there.

Ghosting through the halls, he entered the 314 project area. The first room he entered seemed to be a secondary control room. The next was an operating room, and empty. There was fresh, green blood on one of the scalpels. He was instantly more cautious. Walsh had just been working on something, and if she had that experimental control chip worked out, it was possible she could send something more vicious against him.

Suddenly, the weight of the AK-47 in his hands seemed much more reassuring. He was initially tempted to go back to the armory and pick up some grenades, but he rejected that notion. The longer he took to find Walsh, the longer she had to try and rally the defenses, or control demons that would slow him down, maybe even kill him. Demons could be pretty tough, though enough bullets in the right place could put down most of those he'd heard of, even in the old books, though it might not take them out permanently.

Hearing some activity out in the hall, Silver Snake pressed himself up against the wall behind the door, conveniently out of sight. A small grin crossed his face as he realized Margaret Walsh just walked into the operating room, and she hadn't seen him. Without the slightest hesitation or remorse, he rose the AK-47 and unloaded seven bullets straight into her back.

The momentum made her spin in place, her eyes wide with shock as Graham's weapon tore through her body with expert accuracy. She crumpled to the hard cement floor, dead. Silver Snake lowered his AK-47, mentally preparing his exit route.

Before he could even enter the hall, however, a hulking monstrosity of a creature entered the operating room from the cell Faith had escaped from. Silver Snake instinctively took a step back, his awareness in overdrive as he realized the creature was something Walsh had to have designed. He was stitched together like Frankenstein's monster, his right arm green and three-fingered, heavily muscled. His left was comparatively small and skeletal, but completely mechanical. If someone could take a human's arm and hand, strip it down to the bone, and then replace that bone with steel, replace muscles with pistons, change blood for oil, and hastily put that arm on someone, visibly incomplete but already powerful, that would be how such an arm might be structured.

The monster looked down at the body of his creator, not grief or loss or even happiness or exultation on his pieced-together face, but simple curiosity. "Mother?" He spoke in a deep, inhuman tone. He rose his gaze to Silver Snake, who finally had enough presence of mind to raise the automatic rifle and aim it at the monster. The creature in question merely looked back at him with some interest, one blue eye, one red, focused on the FOX-HOUND commando.

"Graham Miller, Lieutenant. Assigned by General Hayter, a hand-to-hand combat expert. Mother wanted to remake you as she remade me." He looked down at his 'Mother's' corpse. "I suppose I shall have to simply learn her research and carry out our purpose myself."

Silver Snake just shook his head. "Not happening." He fired off a burst of hot metal from his AK-47, the bullets impacting ADAM's chest with near-perfect accuracy. Unfortunately, they had very little visible effect. ADAM bore the brunt of the weapons fire with a little bit of torn up flesh, but no visible discomfort. He didn't even stagger.

Grabbing a hospital bed with his mechanical hand, the monstrosity threw it at the FOX-HOUND agent. Graham rolled to the side, reacquired his aim on ADAM from a crouching position, unleashing another burst of weapons fire, now aiming up towards the monster's head.

However, ADAM's tactical combat programming had already calculated that being shot in the head would have a 86.395 probability of disabling him, perhaps permanently. He moved out of Graham's line of fire with almost perfect coordination, taking cover behind the door to the special holding cell the Slayer had so recently escaped from.

As soon as the mechanical monster heard the tell-tale click of the rifle discharging its empty clip, ADAM surged forward, crossing the distance between himself and the FOX-HOUND commando with a speed that was impressive for his frame. Even as Graham tried to club ADAM in the face with the AK, ADAM grabbed it with his right, three-fingered hand, wrenching it away from the human and throwing it across the room.

Desperately, Graham tried to knock ADAM's leg out from under him by slamming his foot down on the monster's kneecap. ADAM had already anticipated such a maneuver, however, and stepped back slightly, instantly recovering and picking up Graham by the human's neck with his mechanical fist.

Graham hadn't gained the rank of Snake by being so easily defeated, however. Even as ADAM began to increase the pressure on his neck, Graham used all the effort he could muster to raise his boot and kick ADAM in the chest as hard as he could. Once, the monster grunted. On the second it staggered, and on the third it finally dropped Graham.

Falling to the floor on his back, Graham rolled to his feet, drawing his combat knife and entering a defensive stance, knife angled out and downward, away from his body, heart covered. Just as he was taught by Big Boss. Taking the offensive, he moved towards ADAM, ducking under a swipe towards his face, and grabbed the back of ADAM's head with his free hand. Taking ADAM off-balance, he managed to slam the monster to the ground face-up.

Just as Graham came down with the knife, ready to drive it into ADAM's left eye, the mechanical left hand gripped Graham's wrist, less than an inch from penetration. Rolling Graham over through sheer strength, ADAM pinned Graham to the floor, wresting the knife from the FOX-HOUND agent's hand and emotionlessly slamming it into Graham's chest.

Silver Snake gave a gasp, instantly his muscles going slack as the knife penetrated his heart. He gave a shuddering breath, looking up at ADAM disbelievingly. Finally, his head slumped to the side.

ADAM slowly got up, clenching and unclenching his fists and rotating his shoulders, letting the sensation of pain slowly fade from his back. He looked down at Graham's corpse, reviewing his files and realizing that the soldier's prowess had been greater than expected. The combat style he had assumed and used was unexpected and one that he had not seen before. Or more accurately, one he had not been programmed with. His awareness was young, drinking in knowledge of everything he experienced and always thirsting for more.

He turned his attention to his creator's corpse, realizing that in her current state, she would be unable to supply him information or work with him in any way. He extrapolated, however, that she would keep files detailing his own construction as a reference for later, to work on creating more demonic soldiers. The information had been programmed into him: He was only the first of his kind.

He moved easily into the secondary control room, intending to assimilate all the knowledge contained in the Initiative computers. Perhaps then he could rebuild both his mother and the opponent he had dispatched.

He extrapolated based upon Lieutenant Graham Miller's personnel file and analyzation of their battle that a rebuilt Lieutenant Graham Miller would make an excellent second-in-command and bodyguard. A human who had not been enhanced by any technological or supernatural means had come close to destroying ADAM could only improve after being enhanced by both those means, and loyalty programming that was made properly would ensure that the rebuilt Graham would not be able to rebel or attack him, unlike what he had planned to do to his creator.

* * *

Here is where I have to stop for the moment folks. Don't worry, the next part will deal with Xander and Faith's reunion, but I felt it was more important to develop the growing situation with ADAM at this point. 

Please, let me know what you think.

Later all.

Nick.


	7. The Damned

Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake's Beginnings Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is evidenced by the fact I am writing fanfiction instead of a novel. If you think I own anything, you're a bigger fool than I am.

I apologize for the difficulty in accessing chapter 6 a while ago. This was not my intention, but seemed to have some problems. I have no idea why it was being such a pain, but a pain it was, and it was one I could not fix without at least an attempt to reupload the chapter. reviewers:

Steve: I apologize if jumping back and forth is confusing, I am not intentionally trying to be. Part of it is this format of jumping back and forth is an attempt to avoid writer's block. If I reach a snag in one part of the timeline, I write in the other. By the time I go back to the other one, the snag's resolved itself. The other part is very much a before/after situation. In the Sunnydale parts here, we're watching the events unfold that transform Xander Harris, the nice guy we all know, into Solid Snake, the legendary warrior. The Stargate parts is where I get to play with the finished product.

Don't worry, however. You don't need to know anything about Metal Gear to really follow this fic through when it's completed. The pertinent details will be revealed as Xander learns them in the past. Details of Big Boss, Ocelot, Gray Fox, all of it will be shown. I'm trying to keep them recognizable for the fans of the games, but at the same time letting their characters develop in their own time so newcomers can follow along. I will try to make it clearer, and will revise chapters if I must, but I would not be anywhere nearly as industrious in writing this without jumping back and forth. It will be tied up eventually, but that will take time.

* * *

P3X-706, 2006 

The trip through the Stargate was a rush, and yet distinctly uncomfortable. Snake came out on the other side of the wormhole shivering slightly, with a minor coating of frost that evaporated almost instantly in the hot jungle air of the alien planet. It was bright here, nearly too bright. Snake glanced up and winced, realizing this world had not one, but two suns. Frowning for a moment, he figured this planet had to be quite a bit further out from its stars than Earth was, or else it would have been fried to a crisp.

He also realized, belatedly, exactly what Ferretti and O'Neill's bet was on. The trip was disorienting, and had Snake suffered from motion sickness, he probably would have been seeking the nearest bush to lose his lunch at.

Shaking his head a bit, and grumbling a little at the feeling of a trickle of water flowing down the back of his neck, he stepped away from the Stargate and looked around. The trees in this environment were immense, speaking of enormous age. Vines grew everywhere, even creeping up the sides of the Stargate and the Dial-Home Device, more easily called the DHD.

Faith smirked at him, rubbing her hands together almost evilly. "Did you enjoy your first trip through the Gate, X-man? You're looking a little uncomfortable."

Snake rolled his eyes, looking to Ferretti. "I don't know how you get by, Major. Faith here is usually enough to drive just about anybody nuts."

Ferretti smirked a bit, then his expression grew a bit more serious. "The construction site is about ten miles south of here. It's quite hot and humid, but we don't have too much time, so we'll have to set a good pace. I don't know how good you are, Hammond seems to think you're damn good, but I don't need to see any showing off."

Snake frowned. "Relax, sir. I know I look a bit younger than you would expect, but I'm a veteran. Showing off is the last thing on my mind."

Without another word, Snake moved forward, moving lightly and easily through the jungle behind Makepeace's team. Lou just blinked. Faith sighed and shook her head. "Lou, trust me. The last thing you should question is his competence. If anybody deserves leeway and respect, it's him. He knows what he's doing."

* * *

After a fairly unpleasant hike, SG-2 and SG-3 paused behind a ridge. The sky was darkening into a nearly sickening rainbow hue, much like watching light being reflected off an oil slick. Snake would be rather grateful when the suns finally went down and the sky became a little calmer. As both Stargate teams lay flat against the edge of the ridge, reconnoitering the area, Snake was already considering the best points of infiltration, automatically and without even truly thinking about it. He pulled out his binoculars and took a closer look. 

Seeing the Staff Cannon turrets, he frowned as he considered their range and their position. Three of them, in a triangular formation around the nearly completed ship. The Jaffa manning the top would find it quite difficult to see at night, and they were busy watching the enslaved humans below, the people all filing in towards the ridge. Logic told Snake the naquadah mine's entrance was right below him. There was a rude, though rather large hut off to the side, probably where they kept food for the slaves and the Jaffa. "Colonel Makepeace," he spoke quietly, "Do you think our sniper rifles could tag the gunners on the cannon turrets? There's only three of them around the Al'kesh."

Makepeace was already considering the same question as he peered through his own binoculars. "I know I can tag one from here. Sampson, Lehane?"

Faith replied immediately. "I can tag any of them with my P90 from here, sir."

Major Sampson, a young, red-haired man spoke. "I'll need to shift my vantage point, sir, but they're easily in range."

Makepeace nodded grimly. "All right. Harris, you think you can pull another ghosting act like you did to get into the SGC?"

Snake let out a slow breath. "Yes sir, I could get to the Al'kesh from here. I'd already be halfway there by now if I wasn't on a team. All I'd need is for the emplacement on the left there to be taken out." He waved at the Staff Cannon tower in question. "Once I'm in the ship I could start disposing of the Jaffa inside, considering there's only about fifty here. Something tells me though, the last thing we need is for that ship to come up and start targeting us here. Any of you familiar with the antigravs on something like that?"

As Snake looked at the other seven members of the expedition, all shaking their heads, he sighed. "Okay, so I'd just have to not get caught. Then-"

He never finished, as a flicker of movement down below caught his attention. He immediately hushed, watching as a procession of Jaffa carrying a white-garbed woman on a sedan chair came into view, circling around the Al'kesh. Snake peered at the figures under the worsening light through his binoculars, letting out a low breath. "We've got a snakehead down there, fellas."

The group peered closely. "If Vesta's here, then the ship is probably even closer to done than we expected." Makepeace spoke quietly. "They're headed inside."

Snake narrowed his eyes, considering his options. "Okay. I can still get in there and whittle down the Jaffa numbers, but we've got to keep that ship from taking off. Once it gets in the air we'll be screwed, as I'm sure I can't fly that thing."

Faith spoke up. "The two of us can do it faster." She turned to Ferretti. "Sir, I hate to ask, but do you think you could cause a distraction? Something that's big enough to get some of the Jaffa pouring out of the Al'kesh, say..." She glanced to Snake.

He finished for her. "Five minutes after we get inside."

Ferretti considered it. "We could set fire to the hut over there. If it's a storehouse, they'll have to break out quickly to quench the flames. An Al'kesh doesn't move very fast faster-than-light, or so I'm told, so they're going to need a lot of food, and wasting any wouldn't be an option. Even if it won't take off tonight, they're going to need to eat tomorrow."

Makepeace mused over it for a minute, then he shook his head. "No, there might already be enough foodstuffs on board the ship. Besides, the slaves here are going to need to eat, whether we succeed or not."

Faith spoke. "I could plant some explosives on one of the towers before we go in. That'll distract them, and I can leave the remote detonator with you guys. If the ship's shielded, I wouldn't be able to blow it from inside."

Makepeace nodded. "All right. That sounds a bit better. You sure you and Harris can clean out the ship, Captain?"

Faith grinned. "Colonel, if you knew half the crap my friend here's been through, you'd probably feel confident sending him in alone that he could pull this off."

Snake spoke up, continuing to watch the situation down below through his binoculars. "The Gould's going inside the ship." The rest of the team nearly shivered involuntarily, even Faith. His voice had grown cold. "Whatever we're going to do, we'll do it quick."

* * *

Sunnydale, 1998 

At about the same time Silver Snake was meeting his death, Riley's Jeep stopped some distance away from Angel's mansion. Big Boss got out of the passenger side, tempted to grumble to himself about the shortcomings of old age. His son and Gray Fox followed along behind as the old man nodded to one of the Army men keeping watch on the building. "Everything quiet?"

The private nodded. He was a young man, but Big Boss wasn't exactly hopeful about this specific soldier being recruited into FOX-HOUND. Most likely he'd get his college tuition paid off or some other inane thing today's military did. "There's one heat signature inside sir, 98.6 degrees and she's not moving. No other motion inside the place."

Behind Big Boss, Xander let out a breath. "Sir, if I may, I'd like to go in. I don't know if Faith will listen to me, but I don't think there's anybody else here who might be able to reach out to her."

Riley spoke up. "What about your friends, Xander?"

Xander looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, none of us really treated her well, but the others weren't very close to Faith. I wasn't too much either, what with everything that happened, but I'm the best bet of all of us."

Big Boss nodded. "We'll keep an eye on you from here, Xander. I'll warn you though, if she kills you, she won't be leaving here alive. We're not going to dissect her, or torture her, but I can't leave a psychotic with superpowers running around."

Xander straightened up and nodded, and at his son's expression, Big Boss fought to keep a smile off his face. With Big Boss' statement, determination flared into his son's eyes, and that was something Big Boss liked to see. If he was right, that determination could make Alexander Harris an excellent soldier.

Without another word, Xander walked towards the mansion's front door, back straight and face set. Carefully opening the mansion's front door, he moved towards the living room. He could hear the sound of sobbing, low, muffled, as if her hands were covering her face. Looking towards the sound in the darkness, he found her form, curled up into a ball on the floor.

"Faith?" He called out quietly, almost hesitantly.

She immediately jumped to her feet, whirling around and facing him. He rose his hands in a peaceful manner, speaking quickly. "Whoa, whoa! Calm down Faith, I'm not here to hurt you. Nobody's going to unless you force them to, okay? Please, I don't want to get beaten to a bloody pulp."

Faith stepped away from him, some dread on her face. "You're dressed as a soldier, Xander." She clenched her fist. "Are you responsible for having me locked up along with that freakshow?"

Xander blinked. "What are you talking about, Faith? I joined the Initiative to help keep Sunnydale safe, not to experiment on you. If it wasn't for me the Army guys would still be hunting for you all over the city. The mad doctor who had you brought in said you were a demon. If I hadn't been there, they'd have shot first and not asked questions."

Faith took a deep, shuddering breath, searching his face. "You went to bat for me, X? Why? I don't deserve your help after the shit I pulled...um. How long ago was that with the Mayor?"

Xander relaxed slightly, dropping his hands. "That was about five months ago. It's nearly Christmas."

Faith shook her head, shuddering. "Shit. Xander. It feels like everything I did there was like a waking nightmare. I know I wasn't really in my right mind, but I can't believe what I did. Did..." She paused, taking a breath. "Did you stop the Mayor? You're still here, so he didn't eat you, but.."

Xander kept on guard, trying to decide whether she was really worried about the other students of Sunnydale High. Looking into her eyes, he decided that her concern was either genuine, or she was a much, much better liar than he'd ever be able to root out. "Most of the students are fine. We had some casualties, Harmony, Larry. Snyder. I won't miss him."

Faith cracked a small smile. "And the Mayor?"

Xander braced himself, hoping she wouldn't attack him at his answer. "I killed him."

Faith gasped, and stepped back from him as if he'd grown a second head. "Y-you? How?"

Xander relaxed once more, gesturing towards the wall where they could take a seat. "Come on Faith, sit down with me okay? I'll tell you all about it."

Faith moved over slowly, cautiously and suspiciously. Every muscle was tense, ready to bolt at the first sign of hostile movement. Xander sat down against the wall, letting out a slow breath. "After Buffy stabbed you, the Mayor found you in the back of that truck. He put you in a private hospital, and they told him you were in a coma."

Faith nodded, listening to his words as she rubbed her hands together. A five-month long coma would reduce just about anybody to her current weakened condition. It would have been worse if she wasn't the Slayer. As it was, her muscles had shrunk and she felt weak, but most people would have had to do some weight training just to get out of bed.

"Suffice to say, he was angry, but he still went ahead with his plan to turn himself into a demon. We found out he'd be vulnerable, briefly, after the change. So we rigged the school to explode." He scratched his head. "He turned into a big snake. I mean _really_ big. Buffy lured him to the library where I had set a big bomb, but it didn't kill him. It blew about half of him off, though."

Faith winced, but she gave him a slight smile. "Sounds painful. I bet that troll of a principal wasn't happy about you trashing the place."

Xander shrugged, scratching the back of his head.. "Actually, the Mayor ate Snyder before that."

Faith blinked, then shrugged. "Well, I didn't like him anyway."

Xander gave her a small grin. "Buffy and I lured him to the Army base, we liberated a couple of rocket launchers, and Buffy took out the Mayor's eye. He managed to injure her, but I used my rockets to attack him and keep him off-balance. One of the guys working with me at the Initiative was there, too. Eventually I shot a rocket into his brain, and he died."

Faith gave a slight shudder, her face growing puzzled. "I'm not sure what's weirder. The fact that a part of me wants to pound your face in for killing the Mayor, and part of me is grateful for killing him. I don't know what the hell's going on anymore, Xander. Did he cast a spell on me or something?"

Xander bit his lip. "I guess it's possible. Maybe there's something we can do to check? I don't know if you were controlled or influenced or what, but there's gotta be a spell for something like this. Too bad I don't have a funky scanner-type thing. I can probably raid one of Giles' books and find out."

Faith nodded. "Is there any place I can stay? I don't want to impose, but I'm bloody tired and hungry."

Xander smiled slightly, extending his hand for her. "Sure, I'll speak with the General about it. He seems to be a pretty decent guy, I think he'll help."

She gladly grasped it, and together, they rose to their feet.

* * *

About an hour later, Big Boss sat with both Xander and Faith in the flat that served as his current HQ. Big Boss watched the pair with a critical eye, considering everything as they both ate some good, hearty beef and potatoes. That is to say, Xander ate. Faith devoured ravenously. It was as if her body was rebuilding itself from her inactivity before his eye. If only it were possible to give that sort of ability to any soldier. 

'_Then again,'_ he mused, _'That's exactly what Walsh seems to think. I'm not going to experiment on anyone, at least unless they agree to it. I won't become like those manipulative bastards who used-'_

Faith broke his train of thought as she coughed, nearly choking on a piece of beef. Xander came up behind her, slapping her on the back until she coughed up the obstruction. Spitting it into a trash can, she took deep breaths, giving Xander a grateful glance. "Thanks X."

Big Boss smiled very slightly as his son smiled bashfully, lowering his head. "No problem Faith."

The old man cleared his throat. "Well, Miss Lehane. I understand you have a criminal record. As a favor to Xander and for certain...extenuating circumstances, I'm having some strings pulled, so you'll be cleared of the charges."

Suddenly, the Slayer looked wary. "And what do you want from me for this." She paused, then added. "General, sir."

Big Boss shook his head. "It's free, Faith. I'd like to offer you a job, but if you want to walk away from me, I won't stop you. The people of my command could use your expertise. Xander's, too." He gave his son a nod.

Faith pursed her lips. "You'll keep me and X together?"

Big Boss nodded. "Of course. Besides, Riley seems to think Xander has what it takes to be a good soldier, and so far I haven't seen anything to disagree with that." He smirked slightly, stroking his lip. "Riley's a good judge of character. He hasn't yet given me a record of performance that's been off."

Xander just took a seat. "Riley thinks I'm good?"

Big Boss smiled. "Yes. He thinks you've got a shot at being one of the best, given training. You've got instincts, kid. You just need to learn how to use them." He'd better learn how to use them, or Big Boss would be very, very disappointed in his son, having his genes but never fulfilling his potential. Even George, with his frail body, knew how to fight well, so long as he had that suit.

Riley entered the room then, looking quite haggard. "Boss," he spoke, his voice full of concern. "Graham hasn't checked in. It's been three hours since he went after Walsh. He should have been back a long while ago, or at least gave us a call."

Big Boss stood up, grimacing a bit as his old bones protested. "Take Gates and check out the Initiative. Take a sweeper team, too. Capture every scientist in there and find out what the hell is going on!"

Riley darted out, quick as a wink, just as Faith blinked. "Could he have just been delayed, sir?"

Big Boss shook his head. "No. Graham's one of the best, he knows procedure inside and out. He's either dead or unable to respond. If he's just spending time with the hookers around here, he knows he'll spend the next five years on latrine duty."

Both Xander and Faith winced at that. Xander spoke up. "All right, so what do we do now?"

Big Boss stroked his chin. "Well, I'll let you take care of what you both need to, whether you come to work for me or not. I've got some things to take care of."

Taking the hint, Faith and Xander stood up and walked out, leaving Big Boss to muse over the situation. He got up from his seat, walking down the hall and knocking on Ocelot's door.

"Yeah?" The other old man's rough voice penetrated the door.

"Ocelot, get Mantis over here. I don't give a shit if he's a gibbering mess, I need him to look over things here and I don't want to waste time with interrogations." Big Boss nearly growled.

In his room, Ocelot paused. Mantis was one of the worst, and craziest, members of FOX-HOUND. Psycho Mantis was aptly named. He was the most powerful user of telekinesis and telepathy in the world. An angry Mantis could easily level a building, brainwash an army, reduce all but the strongest soldiers to crying children, given time.

Not only that, Mantis was capable of reading the past, and the future of those he fought. He could exploit an enemy's weak points through learning how they were trained. He even knew what an opponent was going to do before they did.

It took an extremely singular mind to be able to even resist Psycho Mantis. Big Boss was one of the few. It wasn't a supernatural ability, simply an effort of will. It was that, and that alone, that made Mantis less dangerous than Silver Snake, or Gray Fox. A fighter focused on a single point could overcome Mantis' ability to read them, predict them, but very few could get close to that level of focus.

Ocelot nodded slowly, then he replied. "I'll send for him, Boss. You sure it's necessary? There's no telling how Mantis might react to a place like this, Boss."

Big Boss gave a chuckle through the door. "I'm more interested in how the Hellmouth will react to him."

* * *

ADAM had been programmed well. 

His tactical programming had supplied the best course of action he could take at this time. He'd moved into the sewers, placing security systems around his lair. It was supplied by power off the city's power grid, rerouted in a thousand different ways. He doubted anyone would come to investigate the drain in power, considering the city's councils were incompetent, but he was being as careful as possible.

Packed in a freezer each, the corpses of Graham Miller and Margaret Walsh were stored. The ice would damage their cells, ordinarily making them unviable for revivification, but it would not be any worry. When they were reconstructed, the demonic cells should rejuvenate even the most damaged human tissue. Walsh had noted this when she was first attempting to create him.

Underneath it all, however, ADAM was worried. He had very little information about General Hayter, although he did have some files about various actions the General had taken throughout the 1970's. Terrorist suppression, actions in Vietnam. Had ADAM been human, he would have thought the information he had in his files was exaggeration. Humans were prone to that.

However, his files on General Hayter were dry, fully analyzed. Despite his advanced age, Hayter would be a dangerous tactical opponent. It explained why Miller was more competent and skilled than expected.

ADAM knew that he would have little time. General Hayter would see the need to move as quickly as possible and he would ensure ADAM's kind would never increase in number given a chance. He calculated that if he did not begin reconstruction of either his mother or Lieutenant Miller within a 29.5 hours, he would not be able to move freely enough to gather resources or be able to even escape and head elsewhere. Sunnydale had enough strong demons in concentration to create a cyberdemon army if he moved before they all left due to the Hellmouth's inactivity.

Setting out through the sewers, ADAM headed for the surface, intending to hunt, disable, or kill, whatever demon he found that he could use.

After all, he needed parts. It would not be difficult to obtain them.

* * *

Later that night, Big Boss writhed in his sleep. 

It was the same dream, every time it happened. He could nearly remember it, word for word. It came and went, sometimes as long as a full month at a time without having it, other times twice in a week, or even twice in as many days.

He was treading along a river, surrounded by burning trees on both sides. His right eye ached and burned with pain. The ruins of his right eye, at any rate. The wound was recent, new, fresh. He had almost forgotten how much it had hurt when it was destroyed, and would have entirely. If it were not for this dream.

Enemy soldiers came at him the other way, but staggering, unarmed. Weak. They were varied, some wearing black uniforms and berets. Some wearing jungle camouflage. Others had urban equipment, officer uniforms.

And screaming. All of them were screaming. From the fatal wounds he had inflicted upon them. Throats gushed blood endlessly, heads displayed wounds and gray matter from sniper fire. One poor soul had been ripped apart by a machine gun.

Avoiding them was not difficult, they were slow. His own movement was slower than he would have liked in the water, but while he moved along at a pace about half that of walking, their pace was much slower.

The danger came from their numbers. He was nearly surrounded by them, and he could do little more than step out of their way, occasionally punching them aside.

Above him, in the air, defying all physical law, floated a soldier who had been dead for two years before Big Boss had even seen him for the first time. The Sorrow. A psychic who spoke with the dead, connected to the world of the dead. His voice echoed in the air that seemed too thin, too unnourishing. Dead air.

He spoke, the same words again and again.

"You will be killed by your own sons!"

Big Boss sat up in his bed, his old heart pounding, lungs gasping for breath. Ever since then, he had known the truth of the dead man's words.

Until he met his youngest son a bare day ago, he had believed it would be Cameron who would kill him. But the look in Alexander's eyes. They were clear. Focused. Dangerous. As sharp as a blade.

He lay back on his bed one more, letting out a breath and relaxing again. He had no fear of dying in his sleep.

The Sorrow never lied, after all.

* * *

Any comments are welcome, folks. I really appreciate knowing what you guys think of my efforts. 

Later all.

Nick.


	8. Cracks

Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake's Beginnings Chapter 8

Disclaimer: My lawyer has said I'm not allowed to make any money off of this. So I'm not going to bother.

In any case, here we go.

* * *

Sunnydale, 1999 

Xander managed to keep Faith's recovery secret until after the Christmas holidays, with the assistance of the Initiative Army units. She was carefully watched, under guard, while Xander picked up the supplies for a simple scanning spell. Giles had a book for almost everything.

Big Boss had spent the same time tracking Walsh's creation. ADAM was slippery, however. Often Riley and Forrest would only find the butchered remains of various types of demon, some of the parts missing, arms, limbs, sometimes a head or two. The results were always messy. A few had been skinned alive.

The creature's actions were puzzling Big Boss. After the sweep and capture of the scientists, he knew that ADAM had been programmed by Walsh with all the tactical ability she could compile. Luckily, she had not been able to observe Gray Fox's full ability, but she managed to get enough from him to make Big Boss worry quite a bit. However, Big Boss wasn't quite sure why ADAM was hunting demons and taking them apart, piece by piece.

In the interest of security, Big Boss had Ocelot hack into the Initiative's security system. Now he could keep track of everything that happened in that facility without stepping anywhere near it. He'd also called off all demon capturing missions. Now, they simply killed them off, usually with overwhelming force. Big Boss doubted even the stoutest demon could handle being blown into a hundred bite-sized bits.

Guns may not kill most of them immediately, but enough bullets usually does the trick.

Everything seemed to be going quite well, until one day, which would shape the events of all the things to come for one young man...

* * *

"You what?" Buffy screamed at Xander. 

The entire gang was here, standing in a half-circle around Xander. Giles had a faintly disapproving expression, but whether that was because of Buffy's behavior or his own, Xander couldn't tell. Willow was glaring accusingly at him. Oz was...Oz. He looked as calm and unruffled as always. Buffy was fuming, as if he just told her he'd spent all of his spare time killing puppies.

"I've been helping Faith since she woke up about two weeks ago." Xander replied. It took all of his effort to not flinch when Buffy's eyes hardened looking at him.

"Xander, she's crazy. She tried to kill you!" Buffy spoke, actually looking more concerned, but still very angry.

Xander nodded. "I know. But she hasn't hurt anybody since she got up, and besides, I cast one of those 'spells for dummies' to see if she was being controlled."

Giles' voice was interested when he asked. "And what were the results of the spell, Xander?"

Xander shrugged. "Looks like the Mayor cast a few things on Faith, a summoning spell, a charming spell, a couple of loyalty charms and good old-fashioned bribes. She was being influenced, G-man. She wasn't controlled, exactly, she could have broken them if she wanted to, but she didn't have any reason to want to. Thanks to us in part." He sighed then, shaking his head.

Buffy cut in. "That doesn't excuse her, Xander. She killed people!"

Xander looked at Buffy then, eyes hardening. "Yes, she did. She killed one in a heated combat situation and another when she wasn't fully in control of herself. If you're going to hold that against her, I might was well drive up to L.A. and stake Deadboy right now."

Buffy blinked. "What does Angel have to do with this?"

Xander sighed. "When he lost his soul, he was out of control of himself, and he killed a lot of people. Sorry, Giles." He gave an apologetic look to Giles, who nodded, his face tight. "Anyway, Angel wasn't in the driver's seat when he turned into Angelus, and Faith wasn't fully in control of herself here either. If we'd been better friends with her, the spells the Mayor cast on her wouldn't have worked. I owe her a chance to get back on her feet, and I'm not going to deny that to her."

Willow spoke up now, hesitant. "Xander, she's dangerous, and you can't trust her. S-she's skanky and mean and...not nice!"

Xander crossed his arms and looked to Willow. "Would you ask me to turn my back on somebody who needs my help, Willow? You've been my best friend for ages, I thought you'd know me better than that."

Willow flinched and looked away. Xander's words had been soft, but they hurt.

Giles spoke up now. "Are you certain this is the course of action you wish to follow, Xander?"

Xander just nodded.

Giles gave him a nod in return. "Very well. If Faith is willing, I would like to help if I can."

Buffy whirled around, looking at Giles incredulously. "You can't be serious! She's evil!"

Giles narrowed his eyes at his Slayer. "She's a young woman who has been treated badly and needs help. Xander is right in that Faith requires assistance, and I will not be a hypocrite in giving tolerance to Angel without giving the same to Faith."

Buffy just gaped for a minute. Then she turned on Xander. "If you're choosing Faith over me-"

Xander cut her off. "I'm not choosing her over you, Buffy. This isn't about you at all. I'm doing what I have to do. I can't turn my back on someone who needs my help. I'd like to keep our friendship, but don't you dare make me choose between our friendship and doing the right thing. Because if it comes down to it, I'll choose the right thing every time."

Buffy clenched her fist, her arm shaking with the effort of keeping in control. "You're going to get yourself killed! We want to keep you safe, Xander. I didn't like it when you joined the Army guys, but at least you had someone watching your back there! If you go with Faith, she'll just manipulate you and you'll be six feet under before you know it."

Willow piped in. "Buffy's right, Xander. You should do what she says, she knows better. You always need someone to help you, it's just not safe out there."

Xander sighed, his eyes narrowed, the only sign of his anger. "I never planned on being safe, guys. I may not have the ability to hurl fireballs, talk to the dead or bench-press a car, but this kind of war needs everybody who's willing to fight. When you left after the Angelus mess Buffy, I could have just done nothing, but I went out there with the rest of you here every night. Sure, we didn't do too well, but at least we tried! I'm going to try to help Faith, and damn the consequences. I screwed up last year, hell we all did, I owe her enough to at least try."

Buffy stamped her foot. "If you go with her, I won't come and save you! You know you're going to need it!"

Xander's face darkened. Angrily, he turned and walked out the door, the living room held in complete silence. Oz was the first to recover and speak. "He's got a point."

Willow looked at him, mouth hanging open. "But, but he's not safe with her! He's going to get himself hurt, or killed, and we won't be able to help him if he does!"

Oz shrugged, almost seeming unconcerned. "He knows. We can't choose for him."

* * *

Big Boss followed along behind the slim form of Psycho Mantis through the blackened and damaged ruins of Sunnydale High. 'Slim' is perhaps understating it. He was nearly anorexic. The powerful psychic wore a gas mask, his breath coming in hisses as he strode forward through the ruins, occasionally floating over some of the rougher terrain. 

Big Boss, despite his advanced age, was quite able to keep up with Mantis. He had been the greatest soldier of the twentieth century, and a daily exercise regimen had kept him fit and able, although it kept getting harder and harder to get started every morning. He was still as dangerous as ever, the only flaw he had was he had to take it easy after exerting himself.

Mantis' voice was raspy as it came through his mask. "Boss, this place stinks of death. Many have died here without any hope."

Big Boss nodded slowly, knowing that even behind Mantis' back, the psychic would perceive it. "Do you have a fix on the Hellmouth itself, Mantis?"

Rather than answering, Mantis' feet lifted off the floor and he floated down the burnt-out hall. When he came to collapsed wall, he gestured with his hand, and the rubble was pushed aside as if moved by a bulldozer. Big Boss followed behind, pausing as he examined the room before him.

It was once a library, he could see some burnt books around. That wasn't quite what held his attention, though. Over half the room was taken up with the burnt corpse of a big, scaly thing. After a moment, Big Boss identified it as the half of that massive demon snake that had been badly injured here when they blew up the school.

Most of it was destroyed, but it appeared to Big Boss' eye the creature survived precisely because it was on top of the explosives as it went off. Had they gone off around its head, it likely would have gone no further, but since it kept going, it muffled the explosion a bit with its body. It sawed the beast in half, but it survived. Right up until his son killed it with a rocket, anyway. Big Boss felt a surge of pride at that idea, considering the size of the thing in front of him.

Turning his eye from the rotting corpse, Big Boss looked to Mantis, who was busy looking down a crack in the very center of the library, arms extended. It was impossible to read the psychic's expression with that mask on, but his breath was coming slow, evenly. Calm. Big Boss held his peace, letting Mantis concentrate.

After a few minutes, Mantis rose his gaze to Big Boss. "The Hellmouth will open in two years if it is not sealed. It has been growing quiet because the forces below are building. When the time comes, it will strike all at once and punch through, and all the forces of the Hells will come pouring out. Much like a volcano."

Big Boss frowned. "And if we seal it?"

Mantis tilted his head. "The energies will still leak, but the events will be small. More people like myself shall develop, but there will not be any danger of a breach. It will be a small sacrifice in comparison to allowing a ticking bomb like this to stay. With an appropriate ritual, any fool can open it from this side." His breath rasped a few times behind his mask as he organized his thoughts. "I can seal it, Boss, but I will need time to prepare, and some assistance. I will have to use the energy itself to permanently constrain it, and create channels that cannot be overwhelmed or overcome."

The old man smiled. "Do what you have to do, Mantis. I'll make sure you're not disturbed."

* * *

Faith awoke in her room in the Lowell house as she heard Xander walk into his, the next room over. Even through the wall she could hear him muttering to himself, though she couldn't pick up the details. 

Getting out of bed, she stretched for a minute, warming up. Before her coma, such wasn't needed, but even a Slayer didn't completely recover from enforced inactivity over two weeks instantly. She was nearly back in top form, but she thought she would continue the simple exercises every morning regardless. It felt good to feel her muscles flowing. And though she'd never admit it to anybody else, she felt more sexy afterwards.

After putting on some clothes, she left her room and walked down the hall, knocking on Xander's door. Xander yelled out. "Yeah?"

She winced slightly. She didn't like it much when Xander was that irritated. "Can I come in?" She spoke, hoping he'd let her. She didn't think he wouldn't, but she was only beginning to open up to him, and didn't want to feel rejected.

Instead of answering, Xander opened the door from inside. His face was flushed with anger, and he waved her in. "Yeah, sure, come on in. What the hell." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Sorry, it's just been a bad day. I just don't like the fight Buffy had to have."

Faith bit her lip. "It was because of me, wasn't it?"

Xander sat down on his bed, letting out a sigh. "Yes and no. She thought it was about you, but it wasn't, it was about doing the right thing. Despite everything, Willow and Buffy seem to think I'm dead weight. I'm tired of that."

Faith winced. "They still thinking that despite you running with the Initiative, Xan?"

Xander nodded. "They were worried about you using me and killing me, or getting myself killed out there." He shook his head. "I don't care if I'm not as strong as you are, I'm not going to just walk away. I don't need to be coddled."

Faith gave him an apologetic look. "I understand, Xan. Though I get their position, I don't think that it's quite right for them to pull this kind of thing for you and not Oz. Other than the three nights of the month, he's not any different from any other ordinary person. I mean, at least they could ask about what you want first, hm?"

Xander shook his head again. "Oz needs someone to watch over him during those three nights, someone to understand. He doesn't have the option of walking away. I just wish they wouldn't try to make the choice for me. At least Giles gets it, but Wills and Buffy..." He sighed again, wiping his face with his hands, tears threatening to flow. "Never thought Willow would think I need coddling. It wasn't all that long ago we were all in the same boat, not being able to fight at all."

Faith sat down on the bed next to him, hesitantly taking his hand. He gave her a grateful look. She smiled slightly in return. "You know, I think if we give it some time, let both you and those two cool down, we should all be able to make up. You and the gang had something good going, and I would have given anything to have that kind of friendship before...well, you know. Before all this."

Xander nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Besides, Giles wants to help you out if you're willing. He's not exactly jumping with joy at the prospect, but he's willing." He chuckled then. "What has the world come to, when you're the voice of reason, Faith?"

She gave him a small laugh, pulling her hand from him and slapping his shoulder. "What has the world come to when you're a hero to somebody, Xan?"

He gave her a grin, his anger dissipating. "Guess we're all screwed then, huh?"

* * *

In the sewers, ADAM paused to examine his work. 

He had to admit, his mother would not likely be very pleased when he revived her, considering the cellular damage to her body due to the storage warranted a complete skin replacement. That work had been tedious, replacing every inch of her skin would have utterly bored him, had he been capable of such an emotion. Repairing the damage to her upper body by the bullet wounds had been more interesting. Walsh now sported a nice, brand-new, six-chambered demon heart. Her appearance had been drastically altered. A single horn crested down the left side of her head, a necessity to store the cerebral enhancements.

Finally complete, he activated the revivification program within the hardware he had installed in Walsh's body. Shocks ran through her restructured body, jump-starting a corpse that wanted to live but wasn't, turning from dead to alive as the demonic physiology incorporated, and assimilated, the human one.

Walsh sat up on her operating table, her not-yet healed green, scaled skin twisting into a parody of a smile as she looked at ADAM. Taking a moment to revel in the sensations of her changed world, she looked down at her hands, noting with a sort of perverse pleasure that her new hands were almost delicate, but tipped with razor-sharp talons. She carefully stroked her face, noting the changes and frowning a bit. There would be no way for her to pass for human, but she found she didn't care.

ADAM's low voice spoke. "Does your continued existence please you, mother?"

She smiled again, returning her full attention to her creation, and creator. "It does, ADAM. What happened?"

ADAM replied promptly. "Lieutenant Graham Miller destroyed your heart, lungs and spinal cord with an AK-47. I quickly terminated him soon after. I assimilated your research, hunted down the appropriate demonic species and assembled you as you are now. I believed your expertise would be required to put together Lieutenant Miller in an acceptable combat form. As well as to create an arm that is designed for me." He held up his short left arm. While it was a respectable piece of work, it wasn't made for him, and he knew it.

Walsh nodded. "Let's get to work on Graham first, ADAM. Our race needs more numbers first and foremost."

* * *

Now that Mantis was on his appointed task, Big Boss had another thing to check up on. Something far more important to him than even the elite FOX-HOUND unit. 

Picking up his phone, he took a cigar from his pocket, absently bit off the end, spat it out and then lit it automatically. He dialed a long number, one that would be rerouted several times before reaching its destination in a small bunker, deep in the African jungle.

Taking a deep breath of the cigar smoke, he waited for it to connect. Once it did, he spoke harshly to the man on the other end.

"Voyevoda." The password changed for others fairly frequently, but this one was his. Nobody on the other end could mistake Big Boss for someone else with this password. It had some meaning to him. A lot of meaning to him.

"How is the good doctor?" He asked after a moment. He smiled slightly at the reply. "Good. Keep him under guard. And the progress?"

He narrowed his eye then, a low growl in his old throat. "Don't let him delay. The CIA is getting worried about all their missing agents. They're going to call in FOX-HOUND soon, and if it's not complete by then I'll have to make some sacrifices. I don't like making unnecessary sacrifices."

He paused, taking a deep breath from his cigar. "No, I really don't care. Pick up his daughter, that should be some incentive for him. Doctor Pettrovich is a stubborn man, but I think he'll crack if she's in danger."

He smiled slightly then at the other man's words. "Yeah. It'll work. When that thing's online, it'll bring in a whole new era for us. There isn't any kind of weapon that can match the good doctor's creation, once it's complete.."

He tilted his head then. "Yes, Walsh had some good work in cybernetics. The relevant files are already enroute, but I think we can get our own docs to replicate her work." He smiled grimly. "Not like her work is too complicated, but the bitch didn't even consider making normal cyborgs, she had to throw some other crap in there too."

"Never mind. I'll take care of it. You just do your job over there. I'm paying you lazy mercs enough for it."

With some irritation, he hung up, finishing his cigar. He didn't like mercenaries much, they were reliable, but always wanting more money. Ah well, at least soon, he wouldn't have to worry about it.

Metal Gear would soon be ready.

* * *

Area 51, Nevada, 2006 

This base was a thing of urban myth, conspiracy theorists all over the United States had been guessing that the military within had been experimenting with alien aircraft for decades. They were partially correct.

They were experimenting with alien aircraft, all right, but those had been recently captured by Stargate command after the recently failed attack on Earth. Before the opening of the Stargate, it was a testing ground for military technology. It was also the place where the finest minds the American government could hire to develop said technology.

To call it a single base would be misleading. Area 51 was a series of facilities that would rival a small city. A communications tower, heliport, airstrip, bunkers, warehouses, barracks and a command center were the most visible structures, though there were other, lesser structures as well.

In one of the laboratories, Hal Emmerich, Otacon to his friends, worked on the latest puzzle he was assigned to. The difficulty was he had to fine-tune a miniaturized rail gun for his Earth's newest defense system. It was wonderfully versatile, could defend itself against infantry, tanks, aircraft, and could even shoot down incoming missiles with the rail gun. Otacon's latest puzzle, however, was trying to figure out how he could tune it enough to strike accurately even at targets in orbit.

Otacon's assumption was that his superiors wanted a weapon like this to shoot down a satellite that had been outfitted with weaponry, either laser or nuclear, to strike at any target on the face of the Earth safely out of reach. Weapons like that were being discussed by a few of the scientists, and it would only be wise to have a viable countermeasure to a weapon like that before they launched.

A finely tuned rail gun would also be able to be mounted on other kinds of craft. They were too large for the X-301 fighter project, however they would be able to work on naval battleships, and maybe even that very secret prototype military space cruiser he was designing, though the ship's construction wouldn't even begin for quite a while. He was still trying to figure out how those crystals worked in those salvaged craft. They seemed to work like something in between a conductor and a processing chip, but only when plugged into some of the other technology. Unplugged, they seemed to be little more than artificially made quartz.

It was fascinating, but it was enough to give everybody else on the project a headache. He would have loved to have a chance to talk to the person who first made it work.

Otacon looked up from the papers at his desk as he felt eyes on him. He found himself looking back at a tall, almost noble looking man with blond hair. He wore desert combat camouflage, his blue eyes cold and ruthless. Colonel Cameron Hayter. The leader of that special forces unit here to test some of the latest work and technology. What was it called? Fox something?

"How goes the work?" The man spoke, a British accent tinging his words.

Otacon made an effort to smile and nod. "Good, good so far. You're here to work with some of the new toys, hm?"

Cameron tilted his head. "I'm more interested in looking over some of the computer models at the moment. Do not worry, I'll be able to follow along."

Otacon found himself nodding, a genuine smile crossing his face. "Sure, I'll walk you through it."

* * *

P3X-706 

Snake and Faith easily slipped into the Al'kesh after nightfall. Faith had already placed some C4 on the base of one of the Staff Cannon towers, and both FOX-HOUND operatives were aware that in exactly five minutes, Colonel Makepeace would destroy it, whether they were ready or not. The pair split up once they were inside, Faith to sabotage the engines, Snake to take the bridge.

The advantage of Goa'uld construction, Snake realized, was that it was filled with unnecessary hiding alcoves, hiding places, pillars, panels and the like, so he could easily sneak around and kill patrolling Jaffa without slowing down much.

He hid behind a pillar after checking his watch, realizing that Makepeace was about to set off his little distraction. He pulled his SOCOM pistol out, carefully peering out around the pillar.

As expected, several seconds after the five-minute mark, about a dozen Jaffa ran from the bridge, heading for the ship's exit. Snake didn't worry about them, they were going to be cut down by the remainder of SG-2 and SG-3. The Stargate teams had a clear line of sight, sniper rifles, automatic weaponry, good cover and an elevated position. The Jaffa didn't have a chance.

Moving quickly and quietly into the bridge, Snake moved automatically, training honed into instinctive reflex action. With only three Jaffa left on the bridge, and Vesta, the beautiful redheaded Goa'uld, sitting on her sedan chair, with a lot of irritation on her face, they didn't have a chance.

Snake's first bullet caught a Jaffa in the back of the head with perfect accuracy. Even as that Jaffa was falling over the console in front of him, Snake turned and aimed at the second Jaffa, who was moving to stand in front of Vesta and aiming a zat at him. Before the dangerous, snake-like weapon could discharge, Snake's bullets tore right through that Jaffa's skull, and the warrior fell to the floor.

The Jaffa's sacrifice gave Vesta enough time to activate her personal force shield, however. A glowing, barely visible cylinder of energy surrounded the Goa'uld. She simply smirked at Snake as he quickly shot the last Jaffa in the room, looking him over speculatively.

"You are fairly strong, human. You would make an excellent host." She spoke in that peculiar, echoing metallic voice the Goa'uld have. She rose her left hand, the red gem of her ribbon device glowing with a dangerous light. She could choose to either throw him across the room with that energy, or set every nerve ending in his body aflame with it. "Surrender, and serve your god, and I just might choose to be lenient. Resist, and I'll destroy you."

Snake narrowed his eyes slightly, then he tucked his SOCOM pistol into its holster. Remembering the briefing he'd been given on known Goa'uld technology, he smiled to her. "I don't think so, my dear. You're pretty and all, but the pretty ones always try to kill me."

Quickly drawing a grenade, he pulled the pin and threw it right at her. Had he tried to shoot her, the bullets would have bounced right off the shield, but the peculiarity of Goa'uld personal force shields was that they deflected energy weapons and fast-moving objects, but they allowed slower-moving objects to pass through. Perhaps the designer's logic was simply that a slow object would never hurt the wearer, and being able to pick up weapons thrown to them or salvaged from fallen warriors would be useful. Against modern Earth weaponry, however, this was an easy-to-exploit flaw.

Thus, the grenade dropped right in Vesta's lap, and Snake dived out the door of the bridge. Vesta paused, picking up the strange object the human tossed at her. Just a moment before it exploded, shredding Vesta apart, her sedan chair, and causing quite a bit of damage to the rest of the bridge.

Snake cautiously looked into the bridge, SOCOM drawn again. He smiled grimly, rising to his full height and shaking his head. "Glad she didn't know what a grenade is. That could have been messy."

He thumbed the transmit button of his radio. "Colonel Makepeace, this is Harris, come in."

"Makepeace here. Report."

"Vesta's taken care of. How are things on your end, sir?"

"Just a few more Jaffa to clean up. We'll get the R&D guys to come on by when we're all done."

Snake nodded to himself. "Understood, I'm returning to the sniping point, over."

* * *

A/N: 'Voyevoda' is the name that Big Boss' mentor was known by in Russia during and after World War Two. Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater has all the details. 

Well, what do you think guys? Questions, comments, opinions? All are welcome.

Later all.

Nick.


	9. Seige

Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake's Beginnings Chapter 9

Disclaimer: You already know what I'm going to say here. I own nothing, so don't bug me about it.

For those who aren't aware, NBC stands for Nuclear, Biological, Chemical. NBC suits are typically used to deal with radioactive contamination, infectious plagues and dangerous chemicals. Basically, short-term space suits.

And now, the moment of truth, folks!

* * *

Sunnydale, 1999 

It took three weeks for Psycho Mantis to seal the Hellmouth. In the end, the cost was rather high. Thirteen men had to work together, assisting Mantis' mental abilities. Now all of them were permanent, staggering wrecks, gibbering madly. Some of them had committed suicide, a few others had to be put down.

Mantis himself came through it exhausted, but in a strange way his powerful mind and thorough insanity had protected him from the strain of sealing the Hellmouth. He would have little trouble doing it again in Cleveland when the time came for that one. After that, one more in Africa, and then every Hellmouth on the planet would be sealed. Only the gods, and Psycho Mantis, knew what the results would be.

Never before would all of the access points from Hell to Earth be sealed. Undoubtably, most of the demonic population would suffer greatly, either losing strength or going extinct completely. Naturally, Big Boss would be pleased with that turn of events. He wasn't racist, but when most of the members of any given species could only survive by feeding, killing, and generally causing mayhem to large groups of humans, he wasn't going to care if a great deal of them went extinct.

Xander spent that time training with Riley. The younger man appreciated Riley's help, showing him the basics and some of the more advanced maneuvers. Still ignorant of FOX-HOUND, or the role he was being trained for, Xander still took to the training well. It was as if his body, his very blood, was made to learn how to fight. What had been lacking before was a professional to show him the ropes. His progress was steady, but exemplary.

ADAM had not been sitting quietly either. With Walsh helping him, their creation, Graham Miller, was about to awaken.

It would begin a recurring nightmare, but only for one.

* * *

The members of the Initiative didn't have any idea what was going on. The intruder alarms blared, blast doors shut and sealed, and yet the destruction continued. Troops were cut down by figures that refused to appear on the surveillance cameras for more than thirty seconds. Wherever they went, some, but not all, of the cameras immediately cut to static as they were destroyed. 

ADAM's left arm had been replaced by a Gatling gun, which he used to rip through men and concrete with nearly equal efficiency. When ADAM came to a blast door, he almost happily forced them open with brute force. He moved like a juggernaut, simply unstoppable.

The demonized Graham, his patched-together, orange and dead-flesh face grinning as he held an AK-47 in his clawed demonic hands. He easily ripped his way through the lesser-trained and less experienced troops. Walsh strode along behind her children, grinning madly. Her analytical mind was still intact, and she noted with a strange mixture of delight and clinical precision just how much damage the human body could take as ADAM and Graham tore their way through the men.

The three strode towards the command center with the unstoppable force of an avalanche. Once inside, they easily dispatched the desperate troops trying to fight back. Walsh strode forward, grinning madly as she began to input commands into the Initiative's control systems. The computer began issuing a warning throughout the base.

"Containment breach detected. Initiating Hostile countermeasures."

Walsh herself had discovered in her studies that many types of the captured demons were susceptible to many agents. Oh, some could withstand fire, or bullets, or even toxins. However, a rather large number of them were vulnerable to certain compounds, such as sarin gas. Nerve gas. A small amount of such agents kill people quickly, however large amounts killed, paralyzed, or in some cases, liquified demons. It was utterly useless on vampires, but excellent on a good many types, and so Walsh had installed a security system that would release large amounts of sarin gas throughout the base in the event of a full-blown emergency.

The base completely sealed off from the outside world, and the computer began to flood the Initiative with sarin gas, except for the command center. The effects were nearly immediate.

A few soldiers were close to the equipment lockers and raided them for gas masks. It was useless. Sarin could kill even absorbed through the skin . They were as good as dead moments after the gas reached them. As the gas poisoned them, many of them tried to escape, hammering futilely on the sealed off blast doors, or attempting to get into the elevator. They did not struggle long.

* * *

Big Boss clenched his fists as he watched what he could of the demonic siege of the Initiative. He explored his rather extensive vocabulary of swear words, in seven different languages, as he recognized, barely, the demonized Silver Snake and Doctor Walsh. The images he picked up from the surveillance cameras were brief, but unmistakable. He was glad he wasn't caught in the thick of things over there, but he couldn't do anything from here in his flat. 

Now he paced as he waited for Gray Fox, Xander and Faith. They had been out on a hunting mission when the Initiative came under siege, and now they might be the only ones who could stop those three monsters that were wiping everyone in that facility out.

Ocelot cleaned his revolver meticulously. He kept an eye on Big Boss as the old man fumed, frustrated over the events unfolding in the Initiative. He kept his peace, knowing the time for action would come very soon.

He took his seat as the familiar double-tap of Riley's knock. "Get in here, Finn!" He nearly yelled. At that, Riley walked into the room, closely followed by Faith and Xander.

He glanced to each of them. This was a situation none of them might return from, but he didn't have a choice. "Listen up. Walsh's creation just strode into the Initiative and is sterilizing the place. He's rebuilt both Walsh and Graham."

Riley sucked in a breath. "Damn. This is bad."

Xander nodded in agreement, biting his tongue accidently. He coughed, trying to look nonchalant, but failing miserably.

Faith shook her head. "No shit, Sherlock."

Big Boss gave her a glare, and she nearly took a step back. When he was sure she wouldn't respond, he continued. "They've spread a nerve gas throughout the facility, so you three are going to have to use NBC warfare suits to get in. They'll probably shut it off soon, but no need to take risks. I assume you three have a decent amount of ordinance, considering you were just out hunting?"

As the three nodded, he smiled slightly. "Good. What have you got on hand?"

Riley started his list. "A magnum, a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, knives, body armor. We've got a couple of SOCOMs, too. I've also got a P90 under the back seat, with those handy armor piercing rounds."

Big Boss nodded to the three. "Better get suited up. The base is flooded with sarin nerve gas. You'll need NBC warfare suits. There should be some antidote in the emergency kits in the base, but if your skin is exposed to the gas, you won't have long to take it. You'll be leaving immediately. We have no time to mess around here. Keep in radio contact."

He looked to Xander and Faith. "If you need to contact me, you know the frequency. Don't be surprised if Riley calls me Big Boss or I call him Gray Fox. The first is a name I've earned, the second is his codename in my elite unit. You'll learn more about it when you get back." He nodded to Ocelot, who nodded back to the three young warriors. "This is Ocelot, he'll be helping you all through the security system, but he won't be able to make things too easy for you."

Xander nodded, while Faith grinned. "Big Boss, eh? Kinda suits you."

* * *

Riley's Jeep tore through the streets of Sunnydale almost recklessly. At this time of night, nobody was outside, even the police on the night shift just took a safe place to look around, and they didn't investigate anything suspicious too closely. A lot of Sunnydale's not-quite-finest have gone missing that way, and old habits die hard. 

Thus, Riley didn't stop for traffic or anything else. He pulled into the Lowell house's parking lot with great expertise, parking perfectly into a space right next to the house. Faith leaped out of the Jeep first, grabbing both SOCOM pistols. She only paused long enough to activate the laser sights, to turn on when she touched the trigger.

Riley got out of the driver's seat, pausing only a moment to pull a green bandana out of his pocket, tying it around his forehead. He ran his fingers through his hair, ensuring it was set comfortably. He picked up the Magnum, loading it and setting it into its holster.

Xander grabbed the P90, loading the magazine and then looking to Riley. "Hey, what's with the bandana?" He asked, frowning a bit.

Riley shrugged. "Kind of a tradition. Besides, I just don't feel right if I go into a fight without one."

Faith grinned at Riley. "I know what you mean, cornfed. I don't feel right without my lucky thong."

Xander smiled almost dreamily, then slapped his face and mock glared at Faith. "Bad Slayer, influencing my mind like that. Bad."

She just winked at him, and he couldn't help but laugh.

Riley shook his head with a smile. "All right, masks?"

Xander and Faith grabbed their gas masks from the backseat, readying them. "Check and check." Faith said while Xander replied. "Gotcha. Ready to go."

Riley touched his radio. "General, this is Finn. We're moving in."

Big Boss' reply was clear and grave. "Godspeed. Remember, if you fail, the facility's going to be destroyed, along with most of the campus. There's a lot of lives riding on this."

Xander sighed, steeling up as Riley replied. "Understood."

* * *

Rappelling down the elevator shaft had been tricky but doable. With trained military efficiency, Riley rapidly descended his rope and set down on top of the elevator. Faith followed closely behind, using her natural confidence and talent as a Slayer. Xander came last, carefully lowering himself foot by foot, conscious of the weight of the P90 machine gun slung over his back. 

Their breath came rasping through the masks, carefully dropping down into the elevator and Faith forcing the doors open. The sight before them would give anybody pause.

Soldiers and a few scientists had piled up near the stairway entrance, hammering at it futilely as they tried to open the sealed door, even as they died from the nerve gas. Riley and Xander shook their heads, Riley sighing through his mask. He had trained most of these men, brought them into decent shape, taught them something of what the best of FOX-HOUND knew. It hurt to see them all dead.

Xander saw fallen friends. Some he knew well, some he didn't, but all people who had been killed because of the Hellmouth. His eyes fell on the body of Forrest Gates. Another name to add to the list. Jesse. Jenny Calendar. Larry. Harmony. Xander wasn't arrogant enough to say it was all his fault, but he still wished there had been something he could have done for them.

Faith wasn't quite as hurt by the scene before her, but she still felt some of the pain involved from both of them. These men had first watched her to make sure she wasn't a threat, true. But they brought her into the fold in time, letting her become part of their group. Aside from Xander and Riley, none of them were really friends, but seeing people she knew lying dead on the floor, faces frozen with pain and some with horror, made her ill. A bad idea in an NBC Warfare suit. Especially when surrounded by nerve gas in a high enough quantity to kill in a few minutes.

Alarms blared in the background, slightly muted through their suits but still distinctive enough. Riley moved forward confidently, in a fast, ground-eating pace, moving carefully and professionally with his magnum held in his fists. Xander and Faith came up behind. Faith took a moment to admire Xander's movements as the young man carefully kept checking behind them, his P90 at the ready. His moves weren't polished, but they were quick and deliberate.

All three gave a start as the air vents opened up with a clang. The sounds of the ventilation system echoed through, visibly blowing air from the vents near the ceiling and sucking down by the floor. It made sense: Sarin gas is heavier than air, and thus the only way to really get rid of it was to draw it from below. None of the three made a move to take off their suits, though. Even in the lowest concentrations nerve gas would be deadly.

Moving to the infirmary, Riley, Xander and Faith all took a case with nerve gas antidote. Riley spoke quietly as he quickly and expertly examined the syringes and bottles. "Remember, only take this if you're exposed. The sarin gas will kill you, but so will the antidote if you overdose. Unfortunately, we haven't got any preventative measures here other than the suits."

Xander and Faith nodded, Xander audibly swallowing nervously.

Speakers crackled to life throughout the base. "Heya Fox, I know you can hear me."

Riley stiffened, looking up towards the camera at the corner of the room. "Graham?"

A chuckle. "Got it in one, comrade. You look pretty dorky in that suit, Riley. I'm surprised you're still managing, considering you rappelled down an elevator shaft with that on. Must be awkward having to move around coated in plastic like that."

Riley turned towards the infirmary door, Xander instinctively flanking him while Faith turned her head from side to side, trying to pick up any noise that would otherwise be drowned out by the speaker. Riley spoke out, frustration coating his words. "Come on out Graham. Let's settle this the way we should in the FOX-HOUND unit."

Xander looked to Riley, puzzled, but he kept quiet for the moment. He took deep breaths, trying to keep calm as he heard Graham's reply. "I'd love to, Fox. I'll meet you in the command center, old friend. I owe you a one last fight."

Riley gestured to Xander and Faith, quickly walking out of the Infirmary. He paused for a moment, speaking lowly. "It'll be an ambush, there's no chance Graham wouldn't rig that place. I wouldn't be surprised if the door has C-4 attached to it."

Xander nodded and Faith chuckled lowly. She spoke as quietly as she could manage. "So where do we go?"

Riley replied. "Let's see." He touched his radio. "Big Boss, this is Gray Fox, come in."

Big Boss' voice echoed through their radios. "I hear you, Fox. The three are splitting up, Walsh is in the control room, the door is wired. I can see it through the security system."

Riley sighed. "Any ideas?"

Big Boss chuckled. "I've got them on the security. Graham's heading towards your position, ADAM's coming at you from the other side. I suggest you three move and fast, or they'll tear you apart."

Xander spoke up. "Well, since I don't feel like being dogmeat, let's move on, shall we? I'd rather be the ambusher than the ambushee."

* * *

At the same time, the three cyberdemons were having a similar conversation. 

Walsh spoke over her radio, asking Graham and ADAM. "Is Gray Fox going to fall into our ambush, Graham?"

Graham's reply was quick, almost unintelligible through his twisted voice. "He's the best. He won't be going towards the control room. He'll sweep the base first, try and figure out where we were going to hit him. Do you have them on the cameras, mother?"

Walsh voice was frustrated. "Someone's blanking out the screens. I'm trying to override, but it's going to take some time."

ADAM cut in. "No need to worry. Just close the blast doors, mother. I bore of this game."

* * *

As Xander, Faith and Riley came down the corridor towards the Initiative's cells, Riley gave a start as the blast door began to close right behind him. Xander and Faith leapt back, Xander cursing through his mask. Xander clicked his radio. "Riley, you all right?" 

A moment later, Riley responded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Obviously, we've got a few problems though. Boss, is there any help you can give us from there?"

Big Boss responded a minute later. "I'm not a hacker, Ocelot's a bit better at it than I am. He's keeping some of the doors open, but Walsh is better than he is. I've lost ADAM, Riley. Some of the cameras are knocked out. Stay on guard."

Xander sighed, touching the transmit button again. "Is there a way through the vents to get to the control room?"

Big Boss took a few seconds to reply, which Xander and Faith were already using as they headed back the way they came. "You can reach the control room from the training rooms, there's an air duct that can get there, though it's reading as sealed from here."

Faith touched her radio. "No problem, I can get through. We'll be there in a second."

As the pair walked into the training room, Faith moved over to the same air vent she used to escape from the Initiative such a short time ago. Handing Xander one of her SOCOM pistols, she yanked off the vent and laughed lightly. "This is gonna be awkward in this suit. Wish me luck, X."

Xander grinned behind his mask. "I'll treat you to a pizza when we're out of here, Faith. Good luck." He holstered the pistol, thinking for a moment and activated his radio. "Boss, can you see what the sarin levels are in here?"

"It's clear for the moment kid. Stay in your suit, though. Until Walsh is neutralized, she might release it again, and you'll be dead very quickly."

Xander responded. "Understood."

Faith gave him a small wave, pulling the grate up behind her and started to climb carefully. Xander took a deep breath, bringing his P90 up and moved out of the training room, his feet making little noise on the ground. He treaded carefully down the hallways, looking down a T-junction and then moving onward, every sense alert.

Gunfire erupted on the wall just behind him, and Xander dived, twisting around and firing blindly back with his P90. He barely caught a glimpse of a twisted limb retreating back behind a corner.

:"Not bad, Harris!" Graham's altered voice reached him. Xander scrambled to his feet, backing away from Graham's position rapidly. He turned a corner and pressed back against the wall of the hallway, gasping for breath.

Xander yelled back, his voice muffled by the mask. "Kinda mean trying to shoot me in the back, Graham. You could have had the decency to at least try and hit me from the front! That's the problem with you demons, no manners!"

Graham laughed. "A little bad luck, Xander. If you were just a tiny bit slower you'd be wormfood. Wonder if Riley's right about you, boy. Do you have what it takes to run with the best?" He turned down the hall, quickly firing a burst of bullets from his AK-47 at Xander's position.

Xander flinched and held back, mindful of the bullets passing right next to his all-too fragile, human body. "I don't know Graham, but you're not going to find out!" Turning his P90, he fired blind towards Graham's cover. The armor piercing rounds tore through some of the concrete, mangling Graham's left arm. Graham cursed, growling at Xander from his position.

Xander ran as fast as his legs would carry him towards the armory. He could hear Graham's footfalls behind him, quickly gaining speed. Xander grinned under his mask. His blood was pumping, he felt a thrill in his nerves. His mind was moving quickly but strangely clear. His exhilaration made him feel like he could do anything. There was no actual thought, but instinct. He was staring death in the face, and somehow, he loved it.

From his apartment, watching through the Initiative's security systems, Big Boss watched enraptured by the growing battle. Ocelot kept glancing to his superior, most of his attention held by trying to keep Walsh tied up. Ocelot wasn't the best hacker in the world, but he knew a few things. He couldn't help but be disconcerted by the small smile on Big Boss' face.

* * *

Faith carefully crawled through the ventilation shafts, her movements slow and smooth. Her NBC suit slowed her down quite a bit, but she didn't have far to go. She carefully crawled around a corner and saw light up ahead, streaming through a grate. She couldn't hear anything through her suit, but she didn't care. It was quite claustrophobic in the vent. At three separate points, she had to force sealed panels open, not an easy thing when you were afraid to even rip your suit. 

Carefully drawing her SOCOM, she moved forward a few inches at a time until she reached the grate. She smiled viciously as she saw the demonized Walsh working on the computers, muttering to herself.

"Try and fight me on my turf, hm? Let's see you try and sever my connection now, you little rat." She typed away on her keyboard rapidly, occasionally caressing the curved ram's horn over her ear in irritation.

Faith couldn't resist. She raised her SOCOM pistol, the laser sight moving upward. Tracing along Walsh's spine it went, touching her neck, and then finally centering on the back of the mad scientist's head.

Faith pulled the trigger, and Walsh shuddered, jerked and fell onto the keyboard. Punching the grate off, Faith crawled into the control room and got up slowly, shooting Walsh a few more times for good measure once she was on her feet. She pulled Walsh's corpse to the ground, checking on her work.

Walsh was very dead for the second time. Blood slowly trickled from her mouth, her reptilian eyes were wide open with surprise. Just to make sure, Faith added another bullet to Walsh's skull, spitting out a word with all of her hatred behind it.

"Bitch."

* * *

Riley kept moving through the halls, smiling to himself as he kept ahead of ADAM. The massive cyberdemon fell behind the FOX-HOUND warrior and Gray Fox fully intended to educate ADAM about the folly of trying to take on the best. Fox was baiting ADAM, moving towards the Initiative's storage room. 

Gray Fox moved inside, every sense alert. He took cover behind a stack of crates filled with basic foodstuffs. Military rations. Fox had never liked those, but then, nobody ever did. He considered it a form of mandatory torture for all soldiers since those things had been invented.

He crouched and held perfectly still as he heard ADAM's footfalls enter the room. He kept his breathing slow, quiet and regular. ADAM was moving cautiously, a low whir coming from his left arm. The Gatling gun was spinning, ready to fire at a moment's notice. The super-soldier turned, spraying a number of the crates with the Gatling gun, tearing a good many of them apart. Fox lay on the floor behind his cover, teeth clamped together to keep himself from crying out.

ADAM let the Gatling gun calm, its rotation stopping with a click. The cyberdemon gave a grunt of satisfaction, continuing to look around the room, searching for his prey.

A pity that this prey had teeth.

Fox carefully rose to his feet and stepped around the crates, moving towards ADAM from behind. His boots fell silently, none of his movements hindered by the NBC suit. He could hear the large cyberdemon moving carefully, pausing once in a while, probably to look over his shoulder.

When ADAM began moving again, Fox burst into action. Moving faster than ADAM could react, he came up behind the monstrosity and grabbed ADAM's gun arm, pulling it out of position. At the same moment, his right hand came up with the magnum, bringing the big handgun to the back of ADAM's head and pulled the trigger.

The result was rather simple, if messy. ADAM's head was blown clean off, the Gatling gun spat a few rounds into the crates as ADAM's body fought futilely for survival. Those bullets tore into the packing crates like they were paper, tearing the rations inside to shreds. No big loss. The big, patched-together body fell to the floor, twitching and convulsing.

Fox holstered the magnum, letting out a breath. That was a bit closer than he liked. He wiped the front of his mask, pulling off some of the mixed-up demon blood that had gotten on it, though it was minuscule compared to the amount that sprayed outward from where ADAM's head was. If the base was ever reclaimed, Fox didn't envy the person who'd have to clean up the mess.

He reached to his radio. "This is Gray Fox, ADAM's been eliminated. What's going on on your ends?"

Faith replied first. "I've taken care of Walsh, I'm scoping out the place through this wicked spy system here." She paused. "Riley, Xander's being chased by Graham, they're headed towards the armory. They're sealed in that area, I can't open the doors!"

Riley swore. "Boss, anything you can do from there?"

Big Boss replied a few seconds later. "I see him. Faith, just relax. You've got better access to the system than Ocelot, I'll let him walk you through all this. Change to frequency 141.98."

Faith's voice floated over the radio. "Understood."

Gray Fox licked his lips, leaving ADAM's headless corpse where it lay. He hoped Xander would be all right. He didn't have much hope, though. Silver Snake was one of the best. Xander's life was likely to be measured in seconds.

* * *

Faith really, really wished she could make heads or tails of a computer system. "Ocelot, is it?" She spoke into her radio. "How the heck do I open the doors? Xander's going to get killed down there!" 

Ocelot's rough voice was soothing, somehow. His voice was that of a complete professional. "Keep calm, dear. Go to the panel on the left. That'll be the security system."

Faith moved over. "Ewww. There's demon blood all over it." She wiped her gloved fingers on her suit. Maybe she should have aimed lower when killing Walsh. "Okay, got it. What am I looking for?"

"The computer thinks there's demons running all over the base, so it's locked off the sections that Walsh wanted. You need to hit the all-clear command."

Faith searched desperately, letting out a breath when she found it. "Got it." She quickly typed in the commands, then gave a start. "Shit! It's asking for a password!"

Ocelot's voice came over the radio. "Calm, Faith. Give me a minute." Faith was left staring at the screen for a moment, then she turned to the surveillance system and watched Xander as he fought for his life.

* * *

Xander kept moving on the retreat. Every chance he had, he turned and sprayed bullets towards his pursuer. Graham kept close behind, firing at Xander badly. Even a demonic limb had trouble firing an AK-47 one-handed. Graham's left arm hung uselessly, but it only seemed to spur the cyberdemon on. 

Xander burst through the doors of the armory, and immediately moved for the heavy ordinance. Picking up a belt of grenades, he quickly strapped them around his waist and ran back towards the door, stepping back behind it.

As soon as the door opened inward, Xander shot his P90 at the door, grinning ferally as Graham howled in pain and fell back, the bullet-ridden door slowly closing shut. A second later, Graham fired back through the door, and Xander held still against the wall, hoping that the bullets wouldn't hit any grenades.

Xander could hear Graham's raspy breath through the bullet-riddled door. He was holding still in the hall, growling lowly. "I underestimated you, Harris. Fox trained you well. Too bad I have to kill you."

Xander ignored him, pulling a grenade from his belt and pulled the pin. He popped the door open by a tiny bit, tossing the grenade out into the hall. Graham cursed, his boots echoing as he ran down the hall, away from the grenade. A second later, the grenade did exactly what it was designed to do.

The explosion was deafening. The bullet-ridden and weakened door blew off its hinges, flying inwards. If it was not for the concrete wall, Xander would have been torn to shreds. As it was, the force was jarring enough. While his head was still ringing, Xander got up from his position and carefully looked out into the hall.

Spotting Graham's body lying on the floor, face-down, he carefully stalked up towards the demonized soldier, P90 trained on Graham's head. The cyberdemon's AK-47 lay on the floor, and Xander took a short moment to kick it away from Graham, never taking his eyes off the body in front of him.

Graham whipped up, slapping the P90 aside with his one good arm. His left eye was gone, the flesh of his face seared. His right leg was busted, bone showing through a tear in the pieced-together flesh. In his clawed fist he held a combat knife, and his next stroke cut across Xander's torso, splitting the NBC suit and drawing blood.. It would have cut deeply into the young man's body, had Xander not jumped back.

"Harris!" Graham hissed, unsteadily getting to his feet, limping to keep up with Xander's retreat. Defeat filled Graham's remaining eye. He tried to limp closely enough to strike again with the knife, but Xander stepped back quickly enough to keep out of range. He quickly drew his SOCOM pistol, aimed, and fired.

Graham's head rocked back with the impact of the .45 caliber bullet shredding his brain. Xander pulled the trigger twice more for good measure, and the cyberdemon fell back onto the floor, twitching. Xander took deep breaths, his left hand going to his chest and hissing at the pain. He looked down at Graham's corpse, at once filled with regret that it had come to this, but he couldn't resist saying just one thing.

"Never bring a knife to a gun fight."

* * *

Back in the apartment, Big Boss sat back with a smile of satisfaction. "I knew it, I knew the kid could do it." He looked to Ocelot and grinned. "Remind you of somebody, Ocelot?" 

Ocelot smirked back, stroking his moustache. "He's got good potential. I take it you've made your choice, Boss?"

Big Boss' answering grin was fierce. "I think we've got another Snake in the making, Ocelot. I think it's time I made the full job offer."

* * *

That's it for now, folks. Let me know what you all think. 

I know, I know, no Stargate part here, but do not worry. It'll be there next chapter.

Later all.

Nick.


	10. Departure

Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake's Beginning's Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Ah, screw it. I own no rights to anything here. Sorry folks.

* * *

Stargate Command, 2006 

Snake strode down the halls of Cheyenne Mountain's most secret level, lost deep in thought as he made his way towards the gym. It had been a fairly eventful week here at the SGC. The people of Yalzuba, which was a stupid name if Snake had ever heard of one, were extremely grateful for the liberation of the planet. Vesta had apparently been nasty, even though she was a run-of-the-mill Goa'uld.

There was now a more-or-less permanent mining team operating on that world. Soon after the team was established, Teal'c and the rest of SG-1 went off to rescue his son. The poor kid had been brainwashed, Rya'c's teeth filled with a pair of biological compounds. Either one did nothing, but put together, they assembled into a virus that would have been potent enough to kill every single human being on the face of the Earth. That Apophis guy was a real piece of work.

Thanks to Colonel O'Neill's suspicions, and Doctor Janet Frasier's removal of the false teeth, the threat was passed. After undoing the brainwashing, Rya'c turned out to be a pretty good kid, one that Snake liked. Soon before going to Stargate Command's Alpha Site, a backup site on a planet so far unknown to the Goa'uld, the SG-1 team sent Rya'c and his mother off with good blessings.

"Major Harris to the infirmary, Major Harris to the infirmary." Echoed throughout the base. With a sigh, Snake turned down the hall, away from the gym and walking a little less enthusiastically. It wasn't that Snake didn't like doctors. He remembered back in FOX-HOUND there was a cute little nurse that he wouldn't have minded spending all day with.

No, it was the needles. Big, pointy, jabby, needles. He never liked needles, and doctors seemed to take almost any excuse to use one, either to inject something or extract something. Snake preferred to keep his bodily fluids where they usually belonged: In his body. Not in the doctor's petri dish, under a microscope.

He walked into the infirmary, looking around curiously. "Hello?" He called out.

Doctor Janet Frasier came up to him, smiling. He had to admit, she was one of the better, and prettier, doctors he'd ever had. "That was pretty quick, Major. I've got something about your physical I think you should see."

Snake rose an eyebrow. "I thought I passed? I don't think I'd have been allowed offworld if I had a bad heart or too much cholesterol."

Janet smiled to him. "Well, you did, but if you'll come with me?" He shrugged and nodded, and she led him into her office. She picked up his file on her desk and opened it, moving her finger down a pre-marked page until she reached the point she needed. "We did a full analysis of your bloodwork, Major. I thought you should hear it from me directly..."

Snake sighed, letting some exasperation show on his face. "What is it, doc? You make it sound like I've got cancer." He frowned. "I don't have cancer, do I? That'd be something that'll ruin my day."

She sighed. "No, but your genes show signs of tampering."

"Say what?"

"In the last few years, various companies have been working with gene therapy techniques. When we sent your bloodwork out, it was returned with certain sequences flagged. Those sequences are copyrighted by three biotech companies, all with government connections." She replied.

Snake crossed his arms, thinking to himself. "I've had genetically modified food, but I've never heard of this. Do you have any idea what these sequences do?"

Janet shook her head. "There's about sixty of them. I really can't say for sure, I'd have to cross-reference what they're used for. The thing is, you've got all these sequences, and most people only have a few. The odds of you having all of these sequences without them being introduced forcibly and in this order is pretty low. Even Colonel O'Neill has about twenty of these genes, and they're all over the place. Yours are lined up together."

Snake grimaced. "Hm. I wish I could tell you something, doc. This is all new to me. It's pretty freaky, too. Is that it?"

She nodded. "I didn't want to alarm you, but I thought I should bring it to your attention. I'll be working on it to see what I can dig up, if you'd like?"

Snake smiled slightly. "I'd appreciate it, doc. If some company's been using my DNA without giving me any royalties, I'm going to be pretty ticked." He flashed her a grin, and she chuckled.

* * *

Area 51, Nevada 

Otacon cursed, throwing away his tweezers after he'd picked up the latest electrical shock. He glared at the stubborn thing sitting on his desk. If he didn't know better, he'd say the thing was mocking him. Grimly, he tried to activate it.

The little box turned transparent, which nearly made him jump for joy. A few seconds later though, it flickered. Electrical arcs appeared along its surface, and it became visible again. Otacon sighed, opening the side of the unit and tinkering with the wires inside. He grumbled as he noticed the battery fried the wire connecting it to the refractors.

Stealth camouflage was already possible, but it was usually quite impractical. Otacon remembered that a prototype suit had been designed that used that system. Compared to what Otacon was trying to design, the suit was bulky and uncomfortable. If Otacon could get the small unit to work properly, a person could strap the unit on, flip the switch and blend into any environment, with some distortion, but still more difficult to find than almost anything else. Granted, the battery would only last for about an hour or so before needing a recharge, but that could often be enough.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Being split between four separate projects was really getting to him. Luckily, the rail gun needed no more tweaking, and other engineers could easily work on the rest of the machine. Creating a design for a spacecraft wasn't nearly as difficult either, though he did have to scale up a great deal of the new technology in those odd fighter craft to get it to work on the far larger ship.

He took a moment to rub the back of his neck, letting out a sigh. Things had become more hectic on the base. He'd seen a man wearing a gas mask, of all things, trying to use that odd gold glove thing the scientists had been trying to figure out. However it worked, though, that odd fellow either didn't know how to use it or he just couldn't.

Colonel Hayter spent more of his time working with that Special Forces unit that showed up. Colonel Samuels, one of the unpleasant Air Force officers Otacon had the displeasure of working for, seemed confident that after being trained under Hayter's expertise, and the odd group Hayter led, they'd be ready for anything. What they were getting ready for was something Otacon didn't want to dwell on. Hayter seemed more and more smug by the day.

Otacon wasn't even sure if he'd be ready for the next surprise on the base. Heck, yesterday he'd seen a nine foot tall giant of a man singlehandedly carrying a Vulcan Cannon. He knew that the mobile Theater Missile Defense unit was nearly prepared for its test runs, and the finished unit would carry two of them, but to see a single man carry a gun designed for aircraft to use was something he'd never thought he'd see. Those things should at least be moved around by forklifts.

A somewhat cheerful voice intruded suddenly, making Otacon jump in his seat. "How are you doing, doc?" This was almost immediately followed by a sneeze and a few coughs.

He swung his chair around, giving a smile. "Pretty good, Johnny." He gave Johnny a sympathetic look. "Got a cold, huh?"

The blond-haired man nodded, sniffing. "Yeah, bit of bad luck. It always happens to me." He coughed a few more times, and Otacon instinctively shied away. Johnny took a deep breath, pulling out a handkerchief and blowing into it before continuing. "So, where's the prettier Doctor Emmerich, doc?"

Otacon smiled. "She's around somewhere. Probably working on the computers. She always did like that kind of thing."

* * *

Colonel Samuels absently adjusted his collar as he strode towards the Area 51 hanger. Since the Next-Generation Special Forces came for the final tests of the Metal Gear REX project, he had confidence that soon, Stargate Command would become redundant. They would no longer be required to scout for alien technologies if Earth could produce viable countermeasures right at home. The Stargate itself could be used as the government wanted, America would have an advantage over every other nation, and Senator Kinsey would be able to use his backing to gain the Presidency. 

Although admittedly, REX would not be able to defend against Goa'uld attacks all by itself, it could attack ships in orbit, could be moved almost anywhere and fight back against anything up to direct attacks from an Al'kesh, it would help a great deal. True, Death Glider cannons could pierce the armor, but staff weapons would barely able to scratch the paint. REX's armor was simply too tough.

Samuels was looking forward to it being deployed in the field. The great machine looked almost fierce even in its stand-by and service position, what it would look like when it was standing fully upright would be something he'd enjoy.

The Next-Generation Special Forces themselves had been on the base for three weeks, moving through the exercises, running drills and testing some of the equipment. It was true there were few staff weapons and zat'ni'katel's to use or reverse-engineer, since most of those were at Stargate Command, but Samuels was confident that under new management, such weapons could be easily mass-produced. Especially since that naquadah mine had been secured off-world. It was a pity there wasn't a single scrap of naquadah on Earth.

Striding into the control room, he nodded to the three FOX-HOUND that were overlooking REX itself. Colonel Cameron Hayter, codenamed Liquid Snake, turned and gave Samuels a nod, returning his attention entirely to the nearly complete Metal Gear. The other two refused to go by anything other than their codenames, which had always made Samuels a little uncomfortable, but he tolerated it.

They were Revolver Ocelot and Psycho Mantis. Mantis' breathing came rasping through his mask, apparently concentrating on something far off. Samuels had always distrusted the psychic. He was never sure if the man was reading his mind or just concentrating on a baseball game.

Ocelot was more tolerable, at least. The man had a fetish for revolvers, hence his codename, and he always walked around dressed like a western cowboy, complete with spurs. Samuels was half-surprised the old man wasn't wearing a fedora hat. Then again, Ocelot didn't need one in the air-conditioned room.

Liquid's voice spoke quietly. "Colonel Samuels, I'm glad you could join us. I've just been informed that Metal Gear should be ready for the launch of the dummy warhead in a few hours. If you would be so kind as to activate the launch system, we can begin the preliminary tests."

Samuels shook his head. "I've been given an order by Senator Kinsey and the Secretary of Defense. I'm not to activate the system until we prepare everything."

Mantis let out a breath. Samuels ignored him.

Liquid sighed quietly. "I see. I suppose there is nothing I can say to change your mind?"

Samuels stiffened at Liquid's tone. There was a hint of danger there. "I'm afraid not. I intend to follow my orders to the letter, sir."

Suddenly, pressure was being applied to his neck by unseen hands. Samuels grasped at his throat, his eyes bulging as he looked over to Mantis, who was holding one hand up in a clasping gesture. Samuels would have laughed at the absurdity of being at the mercy of a person with both rasping breath and telekinetic powers if he could have. He found his feet being dragged along the floor against his will, his body being pulled towards Mantis.

The psychic spoke almost with boredom, his face unreadable through the gas mask. "I have his code, Boss. His mind is not strong enough to resist me. He is quite...frail. Believes too much of himself."

Liquid nodded coldly. "Very good, Mantis. Enter the code. We still require Mister Baker's code."

Suddenly, the pressure was gone. Samuels gasped for air and ran for the door, choking. He managed to sprint through the door, rounding the corner as he ran for his life.

A shot rang out, the distinctive sound of a bullet ricocheting off the metal doorframe, the sound of another ricochet against the concrete wall, and something slammed with the force of a sledgehammer into Samuel's rear, the bullet passing right through and destroying something rather delicate on the other side. He collapsed onto the floor, screaming in agony, his hands clenching his crotch. He turned his head, his vision going hazy from the pain as Liquid and Ocelot strode into view, Ocelot spinning his revolver in his hand before setting it in its holster perfectly. Both gave a wince when they saw Samuel's state.

Liquid grimaced. "Ocelot, you couldn't have aimed a little higher, hmm?"

Ocelot shrugged. "Well, the man has been annoying me for the last few weeks. I intended for it to go through his spine, but he must have jumped a little."

Liquid sighed. "Oh well, it doesn't matter." Liquid reached under his jacket, drawing a Beretta pistol. "Next time, just have the decency to kill the man. I'd rather not have to deal with embarrassing things like this. A man should have at least a little dignity in death."

He rose the gun and pulled the trigger. Then Samuels knew no more.

* * *

Sunnydale, 1999 

Xander closed the trunk of the rental car, almost wincing at the sound of finality. He had six months of boot camp to look forward to under McDonnell Miller. Faith had about three months to train, but as a Slayer, she was learning her techniques about five times faster than he was. He took a deep breath, looking up at the sky and enjoying the warm sun.

He noticed the sound of footsteps behind him. Two sets, one short stride one longer. He turned, carefully blanking his face as he faced Buffy and Giles.

Buffy had her hands clasped in front of her, her face filled with shame. Giles stood beside her, his hand gently resting on her shoulder. Buffy spoke quietly. "You're leaving?"

Xander shrugged. "General Hayter offered me a job. I'm going off to boot camp. Can't say if I'll ever be back, Sunnydale just doesn't have any appeal to me anymore."

Buffy nodded slowly. She took a moment, looking as if she was trying to decide what to say. Finally, she spoke. "I was wrong. I'm sorry."

Xander bit his lip, staring at her for a minute. Finally he nodded. "I'm sorry too, Buffy. I'm sorry it ever came to all this, anyway. I understand what you and the others were trying to do."

Giles spoke up at this point, stroking the frames of his glasses. "I assume Faith is going with you along with this, General Hayter?"

Xander nodded. "As 'payment for services rendered' in his exact words. Besides, with you guys here, you should be able to defend Sunnydale without much trouble. Faith and me and Riley and some of the other guys can do more good out there than we can here."

Giles nodded, striding forward and extending his hand. Xander smiled a little and grasped it, giving Giles' hand a good squeeze. The younger man spoke softly. "I'm going to miss you, G-man."

Giles grinned, slapping Xander's shoulder. "Take care, young man. I expect you to write once in a while."

Xander grinned. "Count on it." He turned to Buffy. "So, is Willow going to show up?"

Buffy shook her head. "She still thinks you deserve a normal life, not going off to be a soldier." Her eyes dropped to the pavement, and she sighed. "I'm here because my mom convinced me I should see you off. I don't want to lose your friendship over something this petty."

Xander instinctively moved forward, hugging the petite Slayer, chuckling at her startled gasp. "Well Buffy, I don't want to lose everything here either. I'll write some letters, Buff. Tell Willow if she wants to write, she can get the address from you."

She smiled and nodded. Her body stiffened as another voice broke in. "Hey X, we'd better get going if we want to catch our flight."

Xander pulled back from Buffy, nodding to Faith. He noticed she had a backpack, and her eyes were glittering mischievously as she returned Buffy's stares. Faith's stance was challenging, strong, confident. Buffy was simply unreadable. The dark-haired Slayer spoke first. "For what it's worth, B, I ain't proud of what happened. I'll understand if you can't forgive me, but I'm not going to make this a shouting match if you won't."

Buffy took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm not going to." She made a wry smile. "It's not worth the effort."

Faith returned the nod. "Come on X, we're running late."

Xander laughed. "Alright, alright! I'm coming!" He looked to Giles, grinning. "Sheesh, it's like being married."

The older man let out a laugh. "If you're not careful my boy, she just might have you." He calmed, though with a smile still on his lips. "Well then, you should be on your way, my boy."

Xander smiled. "See ya around." He moved over to the driver's side, Faith hopping in the passenger side. With a quick salute, Xander got in, started the engine and pulled away. Buffy and Giles watched them go, both with a small, sad smile on their faces.

* * *

Quentin Travers, current head of the Watcher's Council, considered his latest problem. 

It began a few months ago, when his intelligence officers reported that the rogue Slayer Faith had awakened and was being kept under security by the American military. No doubt they were at this very moment examining her, or even dissecting her to find some way to reproduce her abilities. He was aware of the preliminary experiments in gene therapy on the other side of the Atlantic, but even the best human specimen simply could not use the same advantages a supernatural one could.

Granted, he knew they would not find anything to explain why exactly the Slayer is stronger and faster than normal people, but they might get it into their heads to attempt splicing in demonic influences. He might have to send a team to eliminate the Slayer and whomever she's having contact with. Perhaps he would have to hire the Terakans for it, though Travers never did like the bill. Even the newest and least-experienced Terakan assassin charged well over two million for a hit, and it got more expensive as they go on.

A little while later, the Hellmouth's energies dropped off. A dispatch of the Coven quickly investigated, and they found that the Hellmouth was sealed. Not just retained, or warded or enspelled, permanently sealed. The person who did the sealing was far more powerful than the entire Coven combined. It was as if the one that sealed the portal was something unearthly. More advanced than anything else.

And now, the head of the Coven, Elsa Graves, stood in front of his desk, which had been nearly completely covered by scrolls, old books, even a tablet or two. On the top of the pile lay the most important piece. The Pergamum Codex. The one set of prophecies that was never wrong. Convoluted, yes. Hidden meanings, most definitely. Incomprehensible, certainly.

But it was blank. Every single last page was blank.

All the other scrolls and such had been legible just a short while ago. Their copies were still intact, but Quentin wasn't sure if they would be of any use.

He spoke quietly, gravely. "You're sure? All the first editions are like this?"

The somewhat attractive woman nodded. "All the prophecies are gone. The taint on all the magic is fading, too. Demons everywhere are wasting away, save for those that are close to human. Even newly risen vampires are no stronger than normal humans. More durable, but not any stronger."

Quentin rubbed his eyes. Without the prophecies, he had no way of preparing for the future. There would be no more ancient warnings, no more chances. "Is that everything?" He spoke, glancing over some of the other scrolls, their ink sliding across their pages into lines even as he watched. Despite the fact some of these scrolls were centuries old.

She sighed. "Not quite. Some of the psychics have begun foretelling the same things." She held a computer page and began to recite from it. "The Old Order is washed away. The Old prophecies are void. The dark and the light are now held at bay. From this point forward, mankind shall stand alone."

Quentin sat up. His mind rapidly working. "No more help from the gods, but no more interference from the dark forces either? Hmm. Have any other new prophecies been recorded?"

Elsa shook her head. "Maybe it's too soon, but I don't think we will be seeing anything long-reaching. There might be some premonitions, but I don't think we'll be seeing genuine prophecies."

He slumped. "Damn it. We'll have to make do. Thank you Elsa, you've been most helpful."

She knew a dismissal when she heard it, so she turned and walked out of his office. Quentin stroked his chin, trying to consider his next course of action. Pushing aside some of the now-useless books, he uncovered his phone and picked up the receiver, dialing a number.

"This is Quentin Travers. I want a package delivered. Faith Lehane. Thank you."

* * *

In a church in Romania, something unique was happening. 

In short, the place was a mess. A bomb had destroyed most of the building. A good amount of it had been collapsed in on itself, and the shouts of the rescue workers outside was muted. The bodies of the dead had been strewn about, still lying where they fell.

Unseen and invisible, energy filled the building. The sudden death and desecration of the church had forced some, not much, but some, of Hell's leaking energies to this place. That energy would have soon faded, had they not found a host.

That host was on the floor in front of the altar, the man's blood soaking his back. He had awakened, impaled by a crucifix, ravenously hungry. All that he had to feed upon however, was blood. He had felt weak, until he began to drink from the throats of his recently departed family.

He cut the throat of another corpse with a sharp piece of wood, hastily drinking from the dead throat. He didn't get much sustenance, but it didn't matter. He needed it. He felt stronger, slightly stronger with all the blood.

He looked up, feral as an animal as a rescue worker finally managed to enter the church, letting out a gasp of horror at the sight. Completely understandable. The host's chin was coated in blood, his breath coming slowly, regularly, his eyes as cold as death.

With inhuman speed, he leaped forward, grabbing the hapless man and stabbing the living throat with his improvised weapon. Greedily, the host drank, feeling the life in the blood. It was a thousand times better than the dead blood. Intelligence slowly returned, but not the normal instincts. The blood felt warm and comforting in his stomach.

He smiled ferally. He had to have more.

* * *

That's it for chapter ten, fellas. Now we're getting there. 

Hope you all enjoyed, and I'd really appreciate any feedback you might have. I'll gladly take any suggestions for the upcoming parts.

Later all.

Nick.


	11. Sneaking into Heaven

I know this hasn't been updated in a very long time. What can I say? Life comes along and things get busy, the next thing you know years have gone by.

This fic has also been uploaded to . Someone there tried to steal my work from here, but when I left a little note pointing this out, the mods over there quickly clamped down on the plagerizer. I've uploaded everything that was here over there.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Watcher's Council HQ, 2000**

If anyone had told him, before today, that one day he would be hiding under his desk, Quinton Travers would have laughed at the man, before arranging things so he would be doing the most menial and degrading work for the rest of their lives.

However, as the alarms and muted sound of smashed windows reached him from his hiding place, it seemed like the only thing he could do. As the heavy reinforced door to his office crashed open, the sound of splintering wood rattling him down to his very bones, he found himself shaking in fear. Nobody had ever managed to assault the Watcher's Council directly. Not since they had first begun as a few old wise men guiding the earliest known Slayers, before civilization developed beyond a few roaming tribes hunting for scraps of food. It was impossible, and yet, it was happening.

Three sets of heavy boots thudded over the floor. The desk was suddenly ripped away, revealing him to the three who had invaded his office. The Slayer Faith, who looked extremely pissed off. An old man with a single eye, General John Hayter. And the boy, that damnable boy who was responsible for splitting the Slayer line in the first place, Xander Harris.

"Hello, Quinty." Faith said with an evil grin. "Your boys tried to kidnap me. I really don't appreciate that. It really wasn't smart, trying to nab me from a high-security training camp. Master Miller kicked their asses right into Hell."

Quinton climbed to his feet, calling upon all the dignity he could muster. If he was to die this day, he would go out proudly. "Faith, you have betrayed humanity by choosing to work with this, this, colonial ruffian!" He gestured to the man with the eyepatch, his single blue eye humorless.

Big Boss' voice was harsh and strong. "You manipulate and deceive, you mistreat and control countless people the world over with the strings of tradition, money and fear. I have seen countless like you in my life, and if I am a ruffian compared to this so-called 'prestigious organization,' then I'm proud to be a ruffian. At least I care about those who fight and die under me, unlike you." With a strength that belied his age, the one-eyed man picked Travers up by the front of his shirt and threw him against the bookshelves that lined his office. He fell to the floor, wincing in pain as his back protested against the rough treatment.

Xander chuckled. "This is a bad day for you, nancy-boy. Right now, governments all over the world are seizing the assets of the Watcher's Council. Undoubtably, quite a bit of it is going to be lost due to corrupt officials and assholes, but at least it won't be in the hands of _your_ corrupt officials and assholes. When your precious traditional organization is gone, a few very good friends of mine are going to rebuild." He turned to Faith. "Think Giles can handle the workload?"

She grinned. "I'm sure he can, now that all the Hellmouths are sealed. I've got to send Mantis a thank-you six-pack."

Travers paled. "You're responsible. Do you have any idea what you've done!? You've utterly destroyed a millennia old balance upon which has rested human civilization! You've destroyed the entire human race in your short-sightedness!"

Big Boss snorted. "Balance? These _children_ were preventing an apocalyptic event every year for the past four years, with only the tiniest amount of help from you. Do you think that they were prepared to have the entire planet on their shoulders? They could have stopped the apocalypse a thousand times over but if they were just a bit too slow, or picked up the information they needed a little too late, there goes the entire planet. You left children to keep lengthening the burning fuse on a bomb. I defused it."

Xander clapped his hands together. "So, who gets to do the honors? Faith, it's your life he screwed up the most, after sending Wussley to be your Watcher. He's pretty good now, but he was completely pathetic when he first showed up. Never thought I'd say this, but Deadboy has a good effect on some people."

Faith grinned. "I appreciate the thought, X. I'm going to enjoy this." She reached into her jacket, and Travers flinched. Only to turn confused when she pulled out a set of papers. She spoke with a vicious grin as she held them up to Travers' paling face. "By order of the Queen, the British Government, and twenty-three members of the United Nations, you are under arrest for high treason, grand larceny, extortion, bribery, mass-murder, kidnaping, assassination, aiding and abetting pedophiles, and tax evasion."

Xander let out a whistle, and a pair of police officers, one male one female, walked into the office, batons drawn. The rather attractive blonde lady cop grinned. "We're here to take you into custody, Mister Travers. Please. Resist."

* * *

**Outer Heaven, 2001**

The small fortress nation of Outer Heaven was built out of the African jungle. Tamed by fire and built in concrete, the place was bordered by a rushing river that provided the fresh water and hydroelectric power that kept Outer Heaven running. The river was fast and treacherous, which made it very hazardous to traverse in the dry season. In the wet season, it was simply downright deadly.

Thus, if anybody was watching, they would have been very surprised to see a solitary figure, dressed in a black scuba suit, carefully pull his way out of the river, using a set of climbing gear to make his way up the smooth concrete that made the hydroelectric plant. When he reached a safe vantage point, he took off the gear and threw it into the river, shedding the scuba suit and changing into a set of jungle camouflage.

Throwing the suit into the river, he let out a few coughs, shivering in the night air. Wiping his forehead, he pulled his radio out of the protective plastic bag, and fitted it to his ear. Clicking onto the correct frequency, he spoke. "This is Solid Snake, I've made landfall."

Big Boss' voice floated over the earpiece. _"I read you, Snake. Remember your mission priorities. Find Gray Fox and investigate Outer Heaven. The CIA needs answers, and it's our responsibility to find them. How was the swim?"_

Xander shook his head, grimacing. "Lousy. Feel like I've run a marathon already. Hopefully it won't take me all that long to get some information. The sooner I find Fox, the sooner I can get the hell out of this stinking jungle." He snorted, trying to clear his sinuses. "Mind telling me just why I don't even have a weapon? Kind of cruel, sending me in somewhere without any guns."

Big Boss chuckled. _"Don't complain too much, kid. You can't leave any trace of your presence. FOX-HOUND doesn't exist. It's the only thing that protects us from causing international incidents. Our agents use only what's on hand so we don't leave any evidence of who sent them."_ His voice turned serious. _"You'd better get underway. I'll be listening. Big Boss out."_

Xander sighed. "Damn it, Riley. You just had to pick a sticky, humid, back-asswards place to get lost in, didn't you?" Rising to his feet, he made his way through the churning hydro plant, taking the time he needed to make sure he wasn't seen. Once he finally made his way outside, the sounds of the jungle greeted him. He could barely see beyond the lights of the compound, the pitch-black jungle far more hazardous than any guard.

The harsh words of Russian reached his ears. Unfortunately, Xander hadn't learned how to speak Russian. He carefully looked around until he saw the source of the words, a pair of guards talking by a set of trucks. It seemed like quite a heated argument, the pair getting more and more angry at each other with every passing moment. Finally, one stomped up into the nearest truck. With a rumble, it turned on and went off into the jungle at a dangerous speed, especially in the darkness.

The other guard muttered angrily, walking toward the compound. Carefully slinking up behind him, Xander grabbed him, silencing the man's startled shout before it could be voiced. Increasing the pressure steadily, Xander pulled the man's head to the side, hard, and heard the tell-tale snap of the neck breaking. The struggles ceased, and Xander gently lowered the body to the ground. He picked up the guard's AK-47, and the USP handgun that was on the guard's belt.

Feeling better now that he was armed, Xander snuck toward the main compound that made up Outer Heaven.

The helicopter came down, guided by the landing lights of Outer Heaven's small heliport. Once it was safely on the ground, the door slid open, and Big Boss hopped out with the grace of a man forty years younger. Rubbing his eyepatch, he turned as the other passenger left the chopper.

He stood tall, at least six inches over Big Boss himself. His hair was long, black as night, and his skin was pale. He smirked, his voice chilling and cold. "You wish for me to find this boy in your little playground."

Big Boss nodded. "Find him, capture him. I want him alive, Vamp. It's imperative he stays alive. If you kill him, this place is going to be up to its ears in bombs and soldiers not on our payroll.. That would be quite inconvenient."

"No doubt." Vamp drawled. "Very well. You know my requirements, and my payment. It seems strange that you would hire me to take care of a single soldier."

Big Boss shrugged. "He's FOX-HOUND. He may be a rookie, but don't underestimate him."

Riley rested his head against the wall of his cell. He shivered, rubbing his hands together. This was too similar to the sensory depravation he had suffered when he was younger, before Big Boss found him. At least the guards talked with him now and then, and he could actually taste the food he was given, as horrible as it was. He made another scratch on the wall with a small stone. Time was hard to measure, as the cell didn't have a window to the outside. He had slept and awoken six times since he was thrown in here, so he hoped it was about six days or so.

His capture was an embarrassment. He'd airdropped into the jungle and made his way to the compound. After infiltrating the place, he'd gathered information, files, notes, ledgers, very important things that needed to get back to friendly hands. When he'd hitched a ride in the back of a supply truck, to reach the extraction point, he found himself growing sleepy. Then he woke up in this dank, dark cell, with a pounding headache, indicating he'd been tranquilized. Obviously, they knew he was there, but how?

The rustling of keys in a lock drew his attention to the door. He quickly moved to the corner behind the door, preparing himself to fight for freedom. The door swung open with a creak, and he could hear a whispered voice. "Fox, you alive in there?"

He blinked. "Xan..what the hell are you doing here? Where's the guard?"

Xander chuckled. "Saving your boyscout butt, Fox. The guard has come down with a bad case of death. And it's Snake, Solid Snake. Sounds stupid to me, but that's what the boss assigned, and I wasn't about to argue."

Riley shook his head, grimacing. "You're the newest member of FOX-HOUND, why did Big Boss send you? Not that I'm complaining, but there are more experienced people he could have sent."

Xander shrugged. "Apparently, I was the only one available on short notice. Besides, Shadow Huntress is off on that demon-killing mission in South America. Finding those Grolox nests is a pain in the ass."

Riley sighed. "Alright. Listen up, Snake. Outer Heaven's a nasty piece of work. The leader of the place abducted a scientist about three years ago, a Doctor Petrovich Madnar. They're forcing him to develop a new kind of weapons system. This thing is the stuff of nightmares, Snake."

Xander frowned. "What? What is this thing, Fox?"

"Code name, Metal Gear."

* * *

**Stargate Command, 2006**

"So what do you think this is about?" Jack O'Neill asked, settling in for the briefing. SG teams one through eight were assembled in the auditorium, the other six off-world at the moment. It was normally used to brief pilots on missions, but at this point it was the only room that could handle the sheer number of people the SGC required for this mission briefing.

Sam just shrugged. "I'm not sure, but it's got to be quite serious with all the SG teams here. It's more than a bit strange for our recon to P3X-920 to be scrubbed without any indication why."

General Hammond stepped to the front of the room, his face grave. "Good morning, people. Unfortunately, as of this moment I am scrubbing all off-world missions. We have a very big problem here at home." Picking up the remote for the projector, he turned it on and it flipped to the first frame. "Approximately two hours ago, a heavily-armed group seized control of Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada, or Area 51. They are the Next-Generation Special Forces, and they're being led by members of a group of elites. Known as FOX-HOUND."

Snake sat ramrod straight at that, his face paling.

Carter gaped for a minute, then she collected herself and asked. "How could anybody manage to take over the most highly guarded base in America? Shouldn't each and every one of those soldiers been cleared by psych analysts before getting anywhere near Area 51?"

Hammond nodded. "We're not entirely sure. We have a few theories, based on their demands. They're demanding we turn over to them all of the most-up-to-date research on gene therapy techniques, twenty billion dollars, and a person's remains."

Jack couldn't help but speak up. "They've attacked Area 51 to grab cash and a body? That doesn't make any sense."

Hammond shook his head. "Nevertheless, that is the situation. They've stated that if we don't give into their demands within twenty-four hours, they'll launch a nuclear weapon."

Ferretti spoke then, puzzled. "Why would Area 51 be holding a nuke? We've got plenty of alien technology there, it seems a bit mundane for them to be threatening to use a nuke to make us give in."

Hammond simply clicked a button on the remote, the picture overhead changing. The new image displayed a monster of a machine, built like a tank, a massive rail gun on one arm. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Metal Gear. The concept was first developed over forty years ago, but the technology wasn't available to make a bipedal machine work properly until about ten years ago. Metal Gear is designed to be a walking tank, capable of crossing over any terrain. The rail gun is designed to launch a nuclear device at a target out in the solar system, and thus capable of repelling attacks by the Gould, especially with enhanced warheads available."

Snake groaned lowly, rubbing his forehead.

Hammond went on. "The trial was to launch a standard nuke at an asteroid astronomers managed to spot in orbit of Jupiter. However, it's capable of striking any place on the Earth from anywhere on the Earth. We can't afford to leave the base in terrorist hands, and we can't destroy it either. Much of the technology and scientists at Area 51 is our best hope for finding a defense against the Gould."

Faith spoke up then. "So we need to get in there and take control of the base. What's the plan, General?"

"SG teams one through ten are to set a perimeter around the base. We will then send in four eight-man teams to seize control of the Area 51's most important assets. The communications tower, the command center, the research lab and Metal Gear's hangar. Highest priority is on the last one, if we can take Metal Gear out of their hands, they'll be left without any recourse but surrender. The research lab is the second priority. It sounds cold, but the hostages being held inside are less important, overall, than stopping the nuclear launch. That said, we need to do the best we can to rescue them."

The picture changed again, showing an old balding man, of quite short stature. "The first VIP on the base is Kenneth Baker. He's the president of Armstech, which was recently bought out by the government for our top-secret contracts. He is unaware of the Stargate program, but his people have been tasked with reverse-engineering some of the technology we've brought back through the gate, as well as designing Metal Gear." Hammond said.

The photo changed to a tall black man, the small amount of hair on his head white with age. "The second is the DARPA Chief Donald Anderson. He has been fully briefed on the Stargate program and is the head of the Metal Gear project. He's the one who dug up the concept from old case files and researched it, trying to find out of it could be adapted to defend Earth against the Gould."

Snake spoke then, his face grave. "Do we have information on the members of FOX-HOUND?"

Hammond nodded. There was a click, and the picture changed, showing six people standing closely together. "Psycho Mantis, I've been told he has powerful psychic abilities. Sniper Wolf, the world's foremost expert in sniping. Decoy Octopus, a master of disguise. Vulcan Raven, a giant with extreme tolerance to cold and heat. And Revolver Ocelot, a specialist in interrogation, and formidable gunfighter."

Snake snorted. "Specialist in torture, you mean."

Hammond ignored the interruption. "In charge of them is FOX-HOUND's squad leader, Liquid Snake."

Snake paled as he took in the photo of the terrorist leader. The features on the man were older, but there was no doubt about it. Liquid Snake and Major Harris looked very much alike.

Jack turned to Snake."Care to explain?"

* * *

The cargo plane rumbled as it delivered the SG teams to Nevada. Snake talked with SG-1 along the way, his roughened voice hard to hear. "I left FOX-HOUND behind a long time ago. That's why I didn't tell any of you. Since the fall of Zanzibar, I just wanted to be left alone, right up until Campbell showed up at my place and asked me to join the Stargate program."

Jack frowned, sympathy in his voice. "I get that. I really do. It's not a good way to go, but I get it. I've been there, and it was the worst time of my life."

Teal'c rose an eyebrow. "I am unfamiliar with your story, MajorHarris, however your skill is formidable. Do you know what we might expect from the members of your unit we will be facing?"

Snake shook his head. "The only one I know is Ocelot. The rest were recruited after I left. All I know for sure is that Ocelot is a seriously dangerous sonofabitch. As for Liquid, I don't know why he looks like me. But I'm sure as hell going to find out."

The intercom buzzed. "We'll be landing in ten minutes. Secure yourselves." The pilot's voice came over, crackling with static.

"Damn hunk of junk." Jack complained.

Sam wryly smiled. "At least it works, sir."

* * *

**Outer Heaven, 2001**

Xander swore softly. "Something like that, in the hands of a military nation? Holy fuck, if these guys want to start a war, all they have to do is march this thing into one country and fire it into another. Goodbye, shaky peace, hello Armageddon."

Riley nodded. "Listen, we've got to destroy this thing. I managed to find out it wasn't completed, and won't be for a few more months. They still need the doc, so I'll nab him and get the hell out of here. You sabotage Metal Gear. I know the hanger is at the base of this building, but security is really high down there. I'd take care of that, but I'm not in good shape right now." He took off his pale green bandana and handed it to Xander. "Here. You'll probably need it more than I will right now."

Xander nodded. "Right. Before I forget, here." He handed Riley the fallen guard's radio. "You know the frequency. Give me a shout if anything happens."

The pair of agents set off on their tasks. After quickly tying the bandana around his head, Xander slipped around the guards patrolling the area, making his way for the elevator. His radio beeped when he neared it, so he moved into an alcove and slid down, minimizing his profile. He opened the frequency. "This is Solid Snake."

"Big Boss here. I managed to make contact with a resistance member, one Joseph Schneider. He's acquired a set of card keys you'll need to move around the base, more specifically, the armory. Unless you feel like trying to dismantle Metal Gear with your bare hands, I suggest you get in contact with him."

Xander nodded. "Right. Where can I find him?"

"He'll be in the building north of the main building. That's a water treatment plant. You'd better be careful on the way in, the sun's coming up and security is going to be quite a bit tighter."

Xander sighed to himself. "Understood, on my way."

He rose to his feet and went out, heading carefully along the corridors. Unfortunately, he slipped up when a guard came around the corner. "Halt!" The shout came in broken English, making him jump.

Instinctively, he started running as quickly as he could, swearing at himself the whole way. He could hear the stomping of feet, more soldiers joining in on the chase. Through five rooms they went, only the rigorous stamina training he'd undergone keeping him from being winded as they chased him relentlessly. Reaching a storeroom, he was about to head outside when he heard excited voices approaching from there. Skidding back a bit, he knew he only had seconds to find a place to hide.

Twenty seconds later, ten soldiers burst into the room, AK-47's at the ready. They quickly conferred, and when they saw the door to the outside was slightly ajar, they ran through it, excited words in Russian being shouted. It was a full minute later that there was some movement, as a cardboard box lifted up, revealing the amazed face of Xander Harris. As he rose to his feet, he looked down at the box, then he picked it up and kissed it.

There was only one thing he could say. "I can't believe that worked!"

* * *

It was a couple of hours later when Xander managed to reach the rendezvous point. He slipped his way into the treatment plant, his soft-soled boots making only the faintest of noise on the concrete floors. The humming of machines droned loud in his ears. Thus, he nearly missed the faint screams and gunfire coming from the room up ahead.

He drew his AK and threw the door open, revealing a scene from a nightmare. There were three men dressed in the rags of a rag-tag militia, firing wildly into the shadows up above. There was brown blur, and one man fell to the ground screaming, clutching at the gaping wound in his chest. The other two panicked and shot around them in all directions, crying in fear as their guns clicked empty.

At that moment, something _moved._ The pale figure dropped from the ceiling, knife in hand, which cut open the man on the left from throat to belly, the hideous wound incapacitating him immediately. With a scream, the last man turned and ran in fear, only to be cut short as a knife flew with deadly accuracy into the back of his neck.

Rising to his feet with a smirk, the man licked blood off the knife he held in his fist. "Three today..." He turned and faced Xander, his cold eyes menacing. "Or perhaps four? You are the agent I have been expecting, one Solid Snake, yes?" With slow, deliberate movements, he pulled his knife back against his chest, carefully slicing three lines across it.

"What the fuck are you?" Xander hissed, aiming his weapon right at the man's torso. The man moved far too quickly for a headshot to be reliable, and hopefully the AK would do enough damage to slow the creature down.

The pale man took a bow, smiling without humor. "They call me Vamp. I'm not about to disagree with the nickname. And you are the little FOX-HOUND agent that's come to this humble little Outer Heaven." The smile dropped from his features, a glint of malice appearing in Vamp's eyes. "I'm afraid I cant allow you to progress any further, boy. Your interference could prove to be quite...annoying, if you continued your mission."

Xander grit his teeth. "Just one more dead vampire to me, pal." He squeezed the trigger, spraying bullets at the pale man. Vamp simply jerked and twisted, the deadly projectiles hitting nothing but air, his inhumanly fast movements keeping him out of harm's way. When the clip was empty, Xander's eyes widened as Vamp stood there smirking, completely unharmed. "Well, shit."

With a blur, Vamp came toward Xander, his fist slamming the younger man to the ground in a single blow. With a cough, Xander rolled aside, just as Vamp's boot came down where his chest had been a moment earlier. Taking advantage, Xander grabbed the outstretched limb and twisted as hard as he could, spilling Vamp onto the floor beside him. With a hard kick in the would-be-vampire's side, Xander rolled to his feet, his hands up in a classic defensive CQC position.

The next few blows came in a blur, and Xander was completely on the defensive. Vamp's fists came inhumanly fast, and it was only the highly developed defensive skill of CQC that kept Xander from being pummeled into a bloody pulp within ten seconds. In the end, a kick to his stomach sent the young agent sprawling, gasping for air. Vamp's fist wrapped around his throat, the pale man smiling evilly as he began to choke Xander.

Desperately, Xander pulled his handgun from its holster, and before Vamp could react, it was against his forehead. A single pull of the trigger later, and Vamp fell to the floor beside Xander, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

Taking a deep, gasping breath, Xander got to his feet. With a wince, he rubbed his stomach, putting his handgun back into his holster. He quickly searched the bodies, and found the keycards he needed in the pockets of the man who had died first.

He thumbed his radio, quietly speaking as he walked. "This is Solid Snake. I reached the rendezvous, but the resistance guys were ambushed. Some freak calling himself Vamp got them."

Big Boss sighed over the line. _"That's not good. Did you get the keys?"_

Xander nodded to himself. "Yeah, I got them. I'm on my way back to the main building now, I'll just have to get to the armory, get loaded up, then go after Metal Gear. Fox is going after Doctor Madnar right now."

_"Understood. Stay on your toes, Snake."_

* * *

A few minutes after Xander left the room of the massacre, Vamp let out a slow breath. With a harsh growl, he slowly lifted himself up into a seated position, wincing as he touched the bullethole in the center of his forehead. The wound was slowly closing, but he had no doubt it would leave a scar. Not to mention the screaming headache he had at the moment. Having your brains scrambled, then reassembled, would do that to a person. Though most people who were shot in the head would be lucky to have a headache at all.

The hunger grew inside him once more. Repairing his brain had taken quite a bit of the hellish energies that animated him, and it required unholy replenishment. Turning to the corpses of his victims, he slit a dead throat and began to feed.


	12. Heaven Burning

No notes this time folks.

* * *

**Outer Heaven, 2001**

Xander crawled through the air vents slowly, moving as quickly as he could without making any noise. The humid air was uncomfortable, but fairly cool compared to the outside. The packs of C4 on his hip were comforting in a morbid way. He knew that all he had to do was reach Metal Gear in its maintenance bay, set the charges around the weakest points, then run like hell. Reaching a vent cover, he listened carefully for a minute. When there was no sign of movement, he opened it and carefully slipped down, getting his balance on the ground.

Security was very tight down here. The door he had to pass through was built behind a chokepoint, and Xander could see the shadows of guards hiding in a few alcoves built along the sides. Frowning, he counted them out in his head. Six guards, and if he were the boss of the place, he'd have them heavily-armed. Just as he was about to move forward, his radio beeped in his ear. Cursing softly, he ducked back down and spoke softly. "It's Snake, I read you."

"_Big Boss here. Listen Snake, the mission's been scrubbed. I want you to abort and head for the extraction point, immediately. An air strike is coming in and they're going to eliminate the place."_

Xander shook his head. "Boss, this is a hardened underground shelter, and Metal Gear's hangar is nearly half a mile down. Unless they're using a tactical nuke, this thing is going to survive, and there won't be anything we can do to stop it once it reaches the surface."

"_It won't matter if it's buried under a few tons of rock, Snake. Outer Heaven is going to be wiped off the map in thirty minutes. You have that long to reach the extraction point. Big Boss out."_

Xander sighed, pulling the radio from his ear. Quickly calculating, he nodded to himself, pulling the iron-hard strength of his determination over his mind. Xander rose to his feet, drawing his USP and moved forward, leaning against the wall as he waited for the right moment. When a guard came around the corner, he struck as quickly as his codename implied, grabbing the hapless man's throat and used him as a human shield. An excited shout in Russian drew his attention as the other five guards raised their guns, but hesitated shooting at their comrade. Xander didn't hesitate, the first pull of the trigger splattered one man's brains over the wall behind him.

Snapped out of their hesitation, the other men began shooting, riddling their friend full of bullets. Snake threw the body into their midst, knocking three of the men off their feet. They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and bodies. The last man drew a bead on Snake, but Snake grabbed the rifle with his free hand and twisted it just away from his body, the deadly hail of hot lead hitting nothing but concrete.

Taking advantage of the leverage he had, he flipped the man off his feet, slamming the guard roughly onto the ground. A stomp of the boot later, and the guard's larynx was crushed, his fate sealed. The last three guards finally managed to untangle themselves, but with three quick shots from his USP, they lay on the ground unmoving. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Xander reloaded his gun, and walked through the secured doorway to Metal Gear's hangar.

He stopped dead at what he saw. Metal Gear was an immense machine, standing at least two stories tall. Its armor resembled a crab's carapace, and the legs were relatively short and stubby. The right side held an immense missile pod that could carry up to six, undoubtably short-range tactical nuclear missiles. Sensors dotted the exterior, which could easily provide full coverage of the machine's surroundings to the pilot inside. The machine was still incomplete, metal scaffolds in place to allow technicians to reach all parts of the doomsday weapon.

But on the ground in front of it was a familiar figure, sitting in a lotus position. Vamp. The pale man rose his head and smiled slightly, the bullet wound in the center of his forehead raw and bleeding.

Xander kept his gun pointed at Vamp, his face cold with determination. "Still alive, huh?"

"Hell had no vacancies." Vamp spoke, slowly rising to his feet. "You are quite formidable. I suppose it comes from the one who trained you. For an ordinary mortal, your skills are quite interesting. It will be a shame to end you here."

Xander shook his head slowly. "You died once before. You want to try surviving again?"

Vamp smirked. "One such as you doesn't have the ability to kill one such as I." He made a dramatic bow with a flourish. "Show me what you've got, Solid Snake."

Xander took a few shots with the USP, not truly intending to hit Vamp, but merely keep him busy for a moment. He dove forward as Vamp dodged around the bullets as before, taking cover behind a support pillar as he pulled a packet of C4 out and readied the detonator. As Vamp came around the pillar with the knife at the ready, Snake took a few shots, aiming for his enemy's torso.

Vamp twisted around the bullet, and with the same move, threw the knife forward with deadly accuracy. It was only an instinctive dodge that saved Xander's life, and instead of being buried in his heart, the sharp blade pierced Xander's shoulder. He grunted as his gun fell from suddenly nerveless fingers, his shoulder screaming in pain. Rolling away from the ferally grinning Vamp, Xander made his way up to Metal Gear. Climbing up quickly on one of the scaffolds, he ducked behind Metal Gear's left leg as three of Vamp's knives came his way, bouncing off the metal joint.

Quickly clamping a pack of C4 onto the leg, Snake hopped off the scaffold and gripped the knife buried in his shoulder. With a grimace, he yanked it out, and he quickly took off his bandana and tied it around the wound. It was rough, but it would have to do for now. Raising the knife in his left hand, he held it out as Vamp came at him, moving inhumanly fast. The bloodsucker slashed at him quickly, and only by quickly retreating before the onslaught did Xander keep the blades from tasting his flesh. With growing frustration, Vamp's movements came even faster, but sloppier, and it was then Xander saw an opening.

When Vamp overextended, Xander ducked down and quickly, mercilessly, drove the knife in between Vamp's ribs. It was not a fatal blow, but it would definitely be a painful and disabling one. Vamp went down hard, growling in pain, but he rolled away too quickly for Xander to get in another slash with the knife.

Rage boiled in Vamp's eyes as he circled around Xander. Quickly drawing more knives from his belt, Vamp threw them at a deadly pace, his hands blurring with the motion. Diving behind Metal Gear's foot, he winced as one knife came close to carving out his face as it bounced off the hard metal. Taking advantage of his position, he planted another packet of C4 and set the detonator as quickly as he could.

He ran for the side door, but was tackled by Vamp, the pale man growling in sheer rage. The pair rolled on the floor in a tangle of limbs, Xander only barely keeping the knife in Vamp's fist out of his chest. Vamp grinned ferally as the knife inched closer to Xander's heart by the moment. Clenching his teeth, Xander buried himself in the struggle, the tense muscles straining for another moment of life. Vamp's face was Death, and looking into it, he had never felt more alive. A heartbeat later, Snake lifted his weakened arm and slugged Vamp across the jaw, momentarily stunning the pale-skinned freak. He kicked Vamp off of him and rolled to the side, pulling the remote detonator to the C4 in his fist.

"Survive this, freak." He spoke coldly as he pressed the switch. The C4 exploded, nearly sawing the legs of the massive machine in half. The explosion itself wasn't all that large or impressive, however with the support weakened, Metal Gear trembled under its own weight. The scaffolding around it squealed as the huge, crab-like body began to fall. Vamp turned and gaped dumbly for a second as it fell toward him. With his inhuman speed, he dove forward, attempting in vain to get away from the machine, but it was too large, its momentum unstoppable. With a crash, it buried Vamp.

Alarms blared, and Snake cursed himself. Running as fast as he could in his wounded state, he slammed his way through the doors at the side of the hanger, his heart pounding as he pushed his tired muscles to move faster. A long corridor greeted him, absent of security, his only company the blaring alarm. Tiredly, he reached the end, clumsily flinging the door open, to reveal a sight he could not have expected.

The enraged face of Big Boss.

* * *

**Area 51, 2006**

Otacon's heart pounded in fear as he huddled in the closet. His hands shook as he worked hurriedly and blindly on the prototype stealth camouflage unit, which was acting like the bane of his very existence at the moment. The machine stubbornly refused to work, and he knew if it had a personality, it would be cackling gleefully at his predicament. It was the only chance he had for surviving the next few minutes, and yet it lay in his hand, unresponsive to his careful coaxing.

"Come on, work!" He hissed softly, slapping the little box on the side. It flickered and hummed. Hearing approaching footsteps, he held the device tightly against his chest and thumbed the activation switch, closing his eyes in fear as the closet door was ripped open. Clamping his lips together, he only barely kept himself from letting out a scream of fear.

"Damn it! Where is the little geek!?" He heard a deep-voiced man yell, as the frustrated guard slammed the closet door shut. The sudden close noise startled Otacon, and he only kept himself from jumping in surprise due to the fact he was huddled up and cramped. Slowly opening his eyes, he smiled as he looked down at his hands and saw only the faintest distortion, his form nearly perfectly invisible as long as he didn't move. The charge wouldn't last long, an hour at most, but if he used it sparingly he could remain safe, maybe get to a radio and call for help.

Moving as quietly as he could, he opened the closet and slunk out of his lab, his heart pounding with fear.

"They're in a hurry, aren't they?" Jack said wryly as he peered through his binoculars. The Next-Generation Special Forces were escorting a covered truck quickly through the base, the small impromptu convoy disappearing into an immense hangar at the base's north end. The assorted SG teams were placed out of sight, three miles distant and atop a cliff.

"Looks like it." Snake spoke softly, squinting in the bright desert's light. "They're really hurrying the preparation for Metal Gear from the look of it. Think they made their move a little too soon?"

Sam frowned. "It takes time to set up a nuclear launch, no matter how well-prepared you are. I looked at the security systems for the warhead, it has to be activated before launch, and if it isn't launched within an hour, it automatically deactivates. According to their timetable, we still have sixteen hours before they fire it off."

Faith grumbled. "Something tells me these boys are a bit trigger-happy. If we don't get in there quickly enough, we can say goodbye to a nice-sized city. I dunno about you, but I think New York's had a hard enough time already, and I doubt the folks of Manhattan would appreciate the whole damned thing getting replaced by a big ball of fire."

Jack grimaced. "Getting in there's going to be a pain. There's nothing but open ground between here and there, and the radar would keep us from just dropping in. Can't exactly knock on the front door and ask to be let in, either."

Daniel took a drink from his canteen, wiping his lip before he spoke. "I know I'm not going with the teams, but if I may?"

Jack slowly turned his head and rose an eyebrow, his words coming slowly. "Yes, Daniel?"

Daniel sighed. "Where does the base get its water supply? There's no rivers or streams, and this place is practically cut off from everywhere else to maintain high security. So where do they get the water?"

Sam straightened up. "Of course. The base gets its water from the underground lake, that's why it was built here in the first place."

Jack looked clueless. "So?"

Sam grinned. "I remember, the lake is fed by an underground stream, which has an entry point at a cave ten clicks west of here. It's small, tight and it'd be pretty rough going through, but we can get into the water treatment plant from in there. It's our only shot at getting in undetected."

Teal'c nodded at that. "Surprise and secrecy will be our best weapons in this engagement."

Jack nodded, his face hardening with determination. "Alright, looks like we'll be going for a swim. Can't say I'm going to like it, though. We'll move the base camp and set up at the cave mouth."

Two hours later, the cold, tired, wet and miserable SG teams finally climbed their way out of the underground lake. Snake took off and wrung out his bandana, a surprising amount of water sloughing off the piece of cloth. He grinned as he saw Faith brushing off her wet clothes, her short hair snarled up.

"Don't say a word, boytoy." She said quietly and dangerously. Snake made a zipping motion over his mouth, tying the bandana back around his forehead. The damp cloth would help out a bit when they went outside again, at least until it evaporated in the dry, hot desert air.

"Alright kids, let's move out. SG's two and four, get to the lab. Five and six, the communications tower. My team and SG-3 will hit the hangar, so that leave seven and eight to get the command center. Radio in when we're all in position, we'll strike simultaneously." Jack said, a mock-cheerful tone in his voice.

Faith clapped Snake on the shoulder. "Come on X, looks like we'll get to rescue the hostages."

"Goody." Snake said, pulling up his P90 and shaking the water out of it. "Let's hope they'll be smart enough to stay down."

Daniel clenched and unclenched his fists, looking into the mouth of the cave with trepidation. The hastily set-up camp surrounded it, with most of Stargate Command's personnel tending to the equipment they were using to keep in contact with the teams inside the base. Hammond looked at him with sympathy. "I know it's not easy to be left behind, son. It's how I feel every time all of you head out through the Stargate."

Daniel nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm not exactly a career soldier here, and I'd be a liability out there, but still. I'd like to be there if I could."

Hammond nodded. "You can still lend moral support from here, Daniel. That's the best we can do right now, unfortunately."

Daniel stiffened then. "Um...General? Do you hear that?"

The portly General frowned and shook his head. "Hear what?"

With some confusion, Daniel looked around. "Sounds like music, General. It's echoing and...kinda creepy."

Hammond looked around. "I don't hear anything."

A scream roused the two, and they turned. Sargent Siler's fist was tightly wrapped around the handle of his gun. His hand shook hard with effort, but it was slowly and inexorably moving the muzzle toward the side of his head.

"Siler! What the hell are you doing!?" General Hammond barked quickly, striding toward him.

Siler was panicked, using his left hand to try to keep his traitorous right away from him. "I can't stop it, sir!" The muzzle was pointing right at his temple now, fear etched on his features as his finger tightened on the trigger. With a jerk, Hammond grabbed the gun and forced it away from the man's head, and for a moment the two fought to keep the muzzle pointed skyward. The struggle ceased as Daniel slammed his fist into Siler's jaw, knocking the poor man to the ground.

Hammond gave him a nod, keeping a grip on the pistol.. "Nicely done, Daniel."

Daniel shook his hand, wincing. "No problem."

More screams began to echo throughout the camp, as weapons lifted themselves into the air and began shooting at their owners. The fire was not particularly accurate, and the quick reflexes of the men saved quite a few lives, however it didn't spare all of them. Blood sprayed from the hideous wounds inflicted by the armor-piercing P90 bullets. At least ten of Stargate Command's best and brightest fell in the deadly spray of weaponry gone mad.

Daniel tackled Hammond to the ground, hoping that a bullet wouldn't strike them, knowing his armored vest would provide only the most meager protection against their own weapons. Above the screams, the retort of gunfire, and panicked cries as the soldiers of the SGC fought to regain control of the situation, Daniel could hear it clearly. The hideous, echoing laughter of a man, filtered through a gas mask.

Jack, Sam, Teal'c and Ferreti's team, moved carefully and quietly between the buildings that made up Area 51. Jack's senses were screaming at him. It was too quiet, and there wasn't any sign of guards anywhere along their route. Stopping for a brief moment, he held up a hand, calling the team of eight to a stop without a word.

Crouching onto his knees (which creaked with protest) he carefully examined the ground in front of him. There was nothing but pavement ahead, leading to the immense hangar that held Metal Gear. It was a wide-open killing zone, no cover, no shade.

"O'Neill." Teal'c spoke softly.

"I see it, T. The ground looks weird, doesn't it?"

The big Jaffa nodded slowly. "Indeed. The sunlight seems slightly distorted over small areas of the ground. It is most difficult to see, but they appear to be mines."

Ferreti grimaced. "Looks like we'll have to go-" The crack of a supersonic gunshot interrupted him, and he collapsed, dead before he hit the ground with a hideous bullet wound right between his eyes.

Jack swore. "Sniper! Fall back, fall back!" He lifted his P90 and shot upward instinctively, toward the lip of the roof of the hangar. Quickly and professionally, the survivors swept back in a cluster, knowing just how vulnerable they were. Gunfire erupted from Sam's P90 as she shot down a guard that came around a corner, the enemy troops trying to flank them.

The distinctive whine of a zat readying itself drew Jack's attention, and he turned to shoot. Only a moment too late, as it fired, striking him with the powerful and painful blast of electricity. He collapsed onto the hard pavement, his vision dimming as he saw Liquid Snake, quickly and easily firing the alien weapon with enormous skill. Then the world went dark.

* * *

Snake, Faith, and Makepeace made their way into the research lab, flanked by the lieutenants of SG-2 and SG-4. The group moved carefully, and when they reached the first thick steel security door, Makepeace spoke softly. "Jordan, you're up."

Lieutenant Jordan quickly pulled out a block of C4, attaching it to the door with care. He set the detonator and stepped aside, taking cover with the rest of the teams. Twenty seconds later, the door exploded inward with a bang, and alarms rang. Makepeace pulled a flashbang grenade and hurled it through the destroyed doorway. The bang was powerful and set their ears to ringing, but the SG teams rushed through the door regardless, their P90's cutting down the disoriented guards.

Snake was in the combat zone again. He quickly and easily turned from one target to the next, his shots eerily accurate as he fired his P90 in three-round bursts. Every time he pulled the trigger, another guard fell with armor-piercing rounds shredding their brains. The guards began to fall back before the onslaught by the more experienced and deadly SG-teams. Snake growled as they managed to get through the door to the lab proper, it would be nearly impossible to take them out without killing at least a few hostages in the crossfire.

Suddenly, screams began to echo, punctuated by gunfire, and beside him Faith cursed. "Bastards!" Throwing caution to the wind, she charged forward, slamming through the door in a roll. With a growl of frustration, Snake followed, skidding to a halt in surprise at what he saw.

The scientists of Area 51 were lined up along one wall, blindfolded and bound. Most of them were crying in fright, muffled by the duct tape covering their mouths. But the guards were dead, every last one of them. Limbs were separated from their owners, guns were sliced in half. One guard had been bisected at the waist, a look of fear and shock in his dying eyes.

"Holy shit." Faith said.

* * *

Otacon pressed himself up against the wall, his hand pressed tightly over his mouth. He'd been too afraid to do anything as the team heading for the hangar was ambushed, and now a man was dead, the rest captured, because of his cowardice. He'd only spotted the trap after the team themselves did, but maybe if he'd done something, they would have had a chance.

He felt faint, his stomach rolling with guilt and nausea. Only the knowledge that his continued survival depended on not disrupting the camouflage kept him from losing his breakfast. Keeping to the shadows to hide his own (he hadn't figured out a way to be completely invisible in direct light) he made his way south, toward the communications tower. He'd seen one of the rescue teams heading that way, maybe he'd be able to help them.

A thought occurred to him, and he ducked into a small office. Looking around carefully to make sure he was alone, he deactivated the stealth camo and looked at the power reading on it. He winced at what he saw. The device was already near the red line, it had to recharge before he'd get another full hour's worth of stealth out of it.

Scrambling under the desk, he unplugged a lamp and plugged the camouflage unit in its place. Hopefully it could charge up enough for him to reach help, reach the communications tower before they were ambushed too. Maybe-

Distantly, he heard the sound of rockets exploding in the distance. The office rumbled with the explosions. Otacon did the only thing he could.

He huddled under the desk. Taking his wife's photo from his pocket, he hugged it tightly against his chest, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he might see her again.

Sam slowly woke up, her head pounding with pain. _'Zat blast'_ she thought, _'We were hit in an ambush, Ferreti went down...damn it.'_ With a wince, she sat up slowly, finding herself on a hard, uncomfortable bed in a large cell.

"Good to see you're up." A familiar voice said. Turning, she saw Samuels, who looked quite haggard and unshaven. He was sitting against the wall, his eyes bloodshot and weary, his uniform jacket missing. He nodded toward the other cots in the cell. "The others are still out cold. Looks like the rescue's been canceled, Major."

"Samuels." She said with distaste. "Lovely. Any idea why they didn't just kill us?"

He shrugged. "Probably additional bargaining chips with the government. These guys are deadly serious. I hope you've been briefed about Metal Gear?"

She nodded. "Scary piece of technology, that, but useful, especially if it can launch naquada enhanced warheads. I don't get why these guys were called in for it, though."

Samuels sighed. "Senator Kinsey wanted the project to go ahead with a minimum amount of word going around in the government or military circles. FOX-HOUND doesn't exist except to the President and a few Senators who know about them, and the Next-Generation Special Forces are a secret unit of genetically modified soldiers. They were made to root out terrorist cells in Afghanistan on the ground." He shrugged. "President Sears quickly vetoed their use over there, though. They're not experienced, all of them are VR trained."

Sam shook her head. "Any idea why they're doing this? It's crazy, seizing Area 51 like this."

Samuels looked at her steadily. "You really don't know, do you?" After a moment's consideration, he spoke. "The gene therapy techniques that were used to make them is flawed. They're suffering mutations, early onset of cancer, bone degeneration, that sort of thing. Liquid promised them that if they could get their hands on a sample of the original set of genes used in their therapy, they'd be able to fix the mutations before they became fatal."

"So all these soldiers..."

He nodded, a faint look of amusement on his face. "Yes, Major. You're up against six elite members of a shadow-ops group and two hundred soldiers who have nothing to lose."

At that moment, Jack groaned. "Ow. Those damn zats sting." Blinking a few times, he looked around the cell. "And I'm sooo going to complain about the accommodations."

Sam couldn't help it. She smiled. "Good to see you're feeling better, sir."

Jack rubbed his head. "Yeah, me too. He looked at Samuels and winced. "Ah, crap. Nevermind, I think I'll just lay my head back for a bit and pretend to be somewhere else."

"Nice to see you too, Jack." Samuels said sarcastically.

* * *

Fans of Metal Gear Solid just might be able to figure out what's happened here. Please, all I ask is that you don't spoil it for those who won't get it just yet.

Hope you all enjoyed, and feel free to comment.


	13. Grinding

**Outer Heaven, 2001**

"Snake!" Big Boss snarled. The one-eyed man reached into his coat, and it was only instinct that saved Solid Snake's life. He dived behind a set of cargo crates as Big Boss riddled the metal with bullets, fired rapidly from an submachine gun. Snake winced as they ricocheted near his face, scrambling desperately for cover.

"You just had to play the hero, didn't you?" Big Boss called out, frustration in his voice. "Do you have any idea how much effort went into Outer Heaven, Snake!? How much money I had to carefully funnel away for a full decade, the recruiting of mercenary companies!? The smuggling of nuclear material!? All of it ruined because you wouldn't follow your orders!"

"Playing both sides, huh Boss!?" Snake called, wincing as he pulled his AK-47 around on its strap, squeezing his weakened right hand around the grip. "You sent me and Riley in for what? To make it look like you were doing something while you prepared to unleash a third world war? When did you go completely fucking nuts!?"

Another hail of bullets answered Snake, and with a curse, he scrambled over for cover. Big Boss' harsh voice reached him. "The system, Snake. The system has to be destroyed. We all dance to their tune, our lives guided by a little cabal of selfish, arrogant fools like that pathetic Watcher's Council. They pulled my strings, and now they pull yours. I sent you in here to relay false information back, I didn't want to have to kill you, Snake! But you were too damned good! I thought Vamp would be able to take care of you, but it seems I was wrong."

Snake couldn't help but smirk. "Never did like bloodsuckers."

Big Boss laughed shortly. "No, I suppose not. It's too bad it has to end like this, Snake, but you've left me no choice." There was a click, and Snake's eyes widened as a grenade bounced over to him. Reacting quickly, he picked it up and threw it over to the far wall, covering his ears as it exploded. The cargo crate shielded him from the shrapnel, but the sound was deafening.

Rolling out from his cover, AK at the ready, he unleashed the deadly hail of bullets at the man who had been his mentor. Big Boss held himself behind cover, the one-eyed man being exceptionally careful not to expose himself. While Big Boss was kept pinned down for the moment, Snake ran behind another set of cargo crates. Spotting a cargo elevator, he managed a tight smile as he made his way over to the control panel, and quickly slapped it.

There was a rumble as it began to rise under his feet. Big Boss ran up quickly and climbed onto it before it could escape his reach. Snake rose his machine gun, but Big Boss slapped it out of his hand, the trusty weapon clattering on the ground far below. The pair grappled, with the one-eyed man trying to maneuver the submachine gun in his hand into position. Snake managed to get a grip on it, and his youthful strength won out as he managed to toss it off the ascending elevator.

What came next was simple, pure combat. The young FOX-HOUND agent's blows were countered by the sheer experience of Big Boss, but Snake's youthful stamina and sheer determination were slowly wearing the older man down as they traded blows. Big Boss made a chop at Snake's throat, but Snake caught the arm and flipped the one-eyed man to the floor. With a vicious kick from that position, Big Boss struck Snake's knee, forcing the young man off-balance with a grunt.

Rolling to his feet, Big Boss moved into a low, guarded position, his single blue eye gleaming with anger, and strangely, pride. He moved quickly forward, his fists coming in a hard, painful series of strikes, which Snake only barely managed to turn aside. All of his skill, his training, clicked together in that moment. Snake saw an opening, and when Big Boss made a strike toward Snake's chest, Snake grabbed the limb and rolled backward, thrusting his foot against Big Boss' chest, throwing the one-eyed man over his head.

As a result, the old man went over the edge of the ascending elevator, and with a shriek he plummeted. Snake lay there on his back, taking deep, exhausted breaths. The rumbling of the cargo elevator was his only companion as it headed for the surface, bringing him toward his freedom.

**Area 51, 2006**

"Any ideas?" Jack asked, twiddling his thumbs as he looked out of the cell's small window.

Sam shook her head. "Not yet. This isn't exactly an easy cell to get out of, sir." She turned to Samuels. "Alright, how can we stop the launch?"

Samuels rubbed his eyes, exhaustion catching up with him. "There are three passwords needed to unlock the PAL, so we can launch the warhead. I have one, the DARPA Chief has one, and President Baker has one. Psycho Mantis got mine, he ripped it out of my mind. It's only a matter of time before they get the other two, if they don't have it already."

Jack frowned. "Lovely. Any idea where they are?"

Samuels shook his head. "Baker, he was in the next cell, but you're too late. They moved him out of these cells a while back."

"And the DARPA Chief?" Jack asked, rubbing his hands together.

As if to answer, there was a long, drawn-out scream that echoed from down the hall. Samuels rose an eyebrow. "That answer your question, Jack?"

Hesitantly, Daniel rose his head when the gunfire ceased. Above him floated an anorexic man, his breath rasping through the gas mask that covered his face. Psycho Mantis. From his position on the ground, General Hammond pulled out his sidearm and fired at the powerful psychic. It was a futile effort, the bullets seemed to weave away from him as they approached.

With a gesture, Hammond's pistol was torn from his grasp, and then the portly general himself was flung through the air, away from it. He struck his head on a rock, and he lay limp.

"No!" Daniel cried, drawing his own gun. Mantis made another gesture with his hand, and Daniel found himself seized, not a single muscle responding to his commands. The psychic floated closer, interest in his eyes.

"Very interesting. Such an immense talent buried within you. You have suffered much in your life, Daniel Jackson. Your parents taken from you before your eyes, the loss of your career due to the ridicule of your colleagues, and your beloved stolen from you by the Goa'uld. It's a wonder you have not manifested your true potential." Mantis spoke, his breath hissing within the gas mask.

Daniel struggled against the force of Mantis' mind. The mask itself was expressionless, but Daniel got the sense that Mantis was frowning. "Your future, it's...very strange." Pain suddenly flared in Mantis' eyes, and Daniel found he could move again. Raising his pistol quickly, he fired off a quick three-round burst. Unfortunately, Mantis recovered just in time, and the bullets flattened themselves against an invisible wall less than an inch from his chest.

"Not very wise, Mister Jackson." The psychic hissed. Daniel let out a scream of pain as the music seemed to grow intensely louder inside his head, the echoing melody pounding at the inside of his skull. It felt as if his brains were about to leak out of his ears.

Suddenly the pressure eased, and Mantis let out a howl of agonizing pain. "It's too much!" He screamed, his hands clawing at his covered face, his floating body speeding back away from Daniel. "Your future, it's too much! How can you attain it, how!?"

Not questioning his luck, Daniel ran forward, a perfect football tackle slamming his full weight into Mantis' body. The thin psychic couldn't resist the momentum, and he fell to the ground with only the barest amount of resistance. He continued to writhe in pain, holding his head as the psychic backlash of peering into Daniel's future ripped through him.

With a wail of pain and rage, Psycho Mantis floated high into the air, flying back toward the base. Daniel drew his pistol and shot at him, but it was fruitless, the psychic's speed was too high for him to hit. He put the weapon away, and turned back, taking on a new task as quickly as he could. To tend to the wounded.

"How goes the progress?" Liquid Snake asked from the command center, his fingers deftly manipulating the keyboards in front of him.

Ocleot's gravely voice came over the radio. "The team heading for Metal Gear's captured, as you know. Wolf tagged one in the head, a nice job as usual. Raven's boxed in the group at the communications tower, he'll be finished shortly. Mantis is decimating their base camp, and I've got Baker stowed away in the armory. Something's wrong with the team at the lab, they haven't checked in. I've sent another team to investigate."

Liquid snorted. "Don't bother. The hostages aren't important and they'll tie down their rescue team for the moment. Send the team in to cage them in, we can execute them later. In the meantime, we've got another problem." His eyes flicked to the closed-circuit camera system, zooming in on the young man with the blue bandana. "Tell Raven to finish off the group at the communications tower. I'm going to make a little phone call to the White House."

Otacon unplugged the stealth unit as soon as it reached 80 charge. He could hear the guards stepping closer to his position with every passing minute, and knew he wouldn't be safe for much longer. Clipping it to his chest again, he thumbed the switch and vanished from sight, or at least casual inspection. Keeping as quiet as he could, he slowly walked down the hall, his heart pounding in his chest as he passed some of the patrolling guards.

It was painfully slow going, but he eventually managed to get outside again, the hot desert sun high overhead. With care, he moved slowly as he made his way toward the research lab, doing his best to keep out of direct sunlight along the way. He knew he wasn't a hero, he just didn't have it in him to fight the way the soldiers did. But he did have it in him to help soldiers do their jobs better, and that was his only chance now.

Once he was inside the building, he made his way back down to his wife's lab, which was a floor below where the terrorists were keeping the hostages. Hurrying his pace now, he went over to the storage locker where they were keeping the Codec systems in preparation for field-testing. Now seemed like a good time to try it out.

The Codec was simple in theory, but difficult to make in practice. The basic idea was to have a radio system that was small enough to fit deep within someone's ear, pressing directly against the small bones of the ear. For years scientists had tried to miniaturize a radio speaker to fit within, but once installed the devices would be irremovable and prone to infection, which is why the designs had stalled. It took his wife to finally figure out a way to mass-produce a system that would work for everyone and be safe from infection. An injection of nanomachines would migrate up to the small bones of the ear and set themselves up as a tiny radio transmitter and receiver. They could run off the small electrical impulses the human body produced naturally, and there was no simple way to tell if someone had a Codec installed or not. You'd need an X-ray, at the very least. In case of malfunction, the nanomachines would automatically break themselves down and be cycled out through the bloodstream.

Steeling himself, Otacon picked up the first needle and stuck it carefully into his arm. With a wince, he pressed the plunger, feeling the cool nanomachines flood his veins. It would take them about half an hour to set up properly, and he intended to use that time wisely.

Teal'c was a hardened warrior. One had to be, to rise to the rank of First Prime of Apophis. Though Apophis was just another snake living inside a human host, the parasite appreciated his servants to be capable and cunning warriors. Brae'tac, the former First Prime before Teal'c, had trained him in every art of combat he knew. Ranging from hand-to-hand combat, to directing and commanding entire armies, and even ways to stay fully alert and prepared for days on end if needed.

Thus when he awoke, the first thing he did was keep himself still, continuing the slow, relaxed breaths of someone who was still unconscious. Keeping his eyes closed, he listened carefully, taking in his surroundings as best he could. There was someone else in the cell with him, someone doing exercises if the sound of her strenuous breathing was any indication. He doubted she would be doing something else strenuous, considering the situation. Although, he wasn't entirely sure of that. Humans were very weird, the humans of Earth especially so.

Opening his eyes, he was greeted by a featureless gray ceiling. Slowly sitting up, he saw the source of the noise. A fit and toned redheaded woman was doing push-ups, shifting her position every twenty reps. He took a moment to admire her form. She was young, but he had learned among the Tau'ri that even their youths made great warriors, good enough to rival any Jaffa, given training and determination.

She paused and looked up at him, then got to her feet. She made a wry smile. "Sorry, I needed to pass the time. You were out for quite a while. I'm Meryl."

He nodded solemnly. "I am Teal'c. Do you know what has happened to my friends?"

She shook her head. "Not a clue. They tossed me in here when I wouldn't join up with their little rebellion." She laughed bitterly. "I shouldn't even be here. My unit got called in to resupply some of the troops that went missing. Guess I know why, now." She looked at him, curiosity in her eyes. "So, uh...what's with the brand?"

Teal'c touched the gold mark on his forehead that indicated his former status. "It is a mark of servitude and slavery."

"Harsh. Anyway, been trying to figure a way out of here, but so far I haven't had any luck. Maybe we can come up with something?" Meryl spoke, somewhat nervously.

He nodded, rising to his feet. He towered over Meryl, but to her credit, she didn't step away from him. Moving over to the cell door, he carefully examined it, touching the keyhole. With a small smile, he looked to Meryl. "I will require a hard object, preferably steel at the least. This cell will not hold us for much longer."

"Yo, boytoy! Come on over here, this is going to blow your mind!" Faith's voice reached Snake from across the room. SG teams two and four had been gently moving the hostages into one of the smaller labs. It would be somewhat cramped, but it was away from the scene of the massacre, the perpetrator of which was still unknown.

Grumbling somewhat, Snake rose to his feet and strode over, carefully stepping over a puddle of blood. Reaching the smirking Faith, he stopped dead at what he saw.

"Willow?"

Willow looked up from her wrists, which were red and raw from the duct tape that had been none-too-gently torn off. "Xander?" Her eyes brightened. "Xander! Omigoditsyouandyou'rehereandFaithtooandeverythinghappenedsoquicklyandtheseguyswerethreateningusand-"

He couldn't help it, he smiled. "Willow, calm down. Take a deep breath. The bad guys are taken out for the moment, but we're not out of the woods yet. We've still got quite a bit to do, and not much time to do it. I'm going to need you, slowly and calmly, to tell us anything you might have heard."

She nodded quickly, swallowing and taking a breath. "These guys seized all the scientists and locked us in here. They're going to use Hal's project, I don't know what the target is, but whatever they'll shoot it at, it'll be destroyed. The payload on this warhead's huge."

Snake nodded. "Fine. Any idea where the VIPs are? The DARPA Chief and President Baker are up there on our priority list, now that you're all safe."

Willow shook her head. "Sorry, it's a bit hard to figure much out when you're tied up and blindfolded and not in bed and..." She trailed off and blushed. "Um, nevermind."

Faith grinned. "Feisty one, eh Wills? Why didn't you just mojo your way out? Last I heard you were a kickass powerful witch."

Willow's whole stance slumped, her face filling with misery. "I can't do magic anymore. I don't want to talk about it, I just-" She took a deep, shuddering breath, her face filled with shame. "I just can't."

"Fine. We'll do this the hard way." Snake replied. "Keep your head down, Willow. We'll call you if we need to." He went to move back over to Makepeace, but her voice stopped him.

"Wait!" She called. Turning, Snake rose an eyebrow. She sighed and wrung her hands. "You'll have to find Hal if you want to try to take Metal Gear. He managed to sneak out of here a while back, I'm not sure how long."

"Hal?" Faith asked.

Willow nodded quickly. "Hal Emmerich, Metal Gear's chief designer and engineer." She smiled softly, embarrassed as she raised her hand, showing her ring. "And my husband."

"Good morning, Mister President. I do hope you're enjoying the bright and sunny weather over there in Washington. I should hope so, at any rate." Liquid's cultured voice came over the speakerphone, filling the conference room. President George Sears gripped the heavy oak table, grimacing at his position. Jim Houseman, the Secretary of Defense, looked at him with concern. The generals lining the room were expressionless, but to George's trained eye, they looked very nervous indeed.

"Cut to the chase, Liquid. You're not the type to play games for the sake of it." George spoke, his blue eyes cold and hard.

A cold chuckle echoed. "I suppose I can forgive you for being a little uptight, considering the situation. Very well, since you're so eager to skip the pleasantries, I will. You failed. Your strike teams have been neutralized, and I am still in command of the base. You now have six hours to deliver us the specimens and the money. Be grateful I did not decide to simply wipe out Los Angeles. Although if I did, I'm not sure anybody would notice the difference."

George ground his teeth. "We can't get the specimens there in that length of time. The closest laboratory that carries a sample is in Cleveland."

Liquid's voice carried a smug tone. "You should have thought of that before sending in teams instead of responding to our demands. They're not entirely unreasonable, considering how your government has treated us for the last twenty years. If you're that desperate to get the samples here within the deadline, I suggest you use all the resources at your disposal. Nothing quite like a tight deadline to bring out a little competence in the bureaucracy. However little that may be."

The President rubbed his eyes, looking very tired indeed. "We'll call you back."

"Do that. And give Colonel Campbell my regards." The signal dropped, and the faint sound of static came over the line before it was cut off.

Jim looked at his boss, cold anger radiating from his features. "The nerve of that yellow-toothed bastard. He should have been left in that Iraq prison for the rest of his life."

George sighed, tapping his fingernail on the table. "Right now, Jim, I'm inclined to agree with you." He bit his lip and turned, his presence becoming more commanding. "Options, people. What do you see?"

General Landry spoke quietly. "The base has powerful AA artillery. We couldn't get a bomber near enough to destroy Metal Gear's hangar. Worst case scenario, we nuke it, start from scratch. It's not something I'd like to do, but we can't let them launch that warhead. We've got enough problems as it is, a nuclear war is the last thing we could want."

Jim shook his head. "Metal Gear is designed to defend itself against the Goa'uld Death Gliders, even if they're coming in at hypersonic speeds from orbit. Detecting and shooting down an ICBM is child's play in comparison." He frowned as he considered. "I suggest we send in Colonel Campbell, he knows more about the FOX-HOUND unit than anybody, even if he's been retired for the last few years."

George nodded grimly, folding his hands together. "Do it. As for the nuclear option...prepare as many missiles as it'd take to make the strike. We could explain an explosion in our territory a lot more comfortably than one of our weapons going off in someone else's. Though the repercussions of that will be bad enough as it is."

Colonel Makepeace grimaced as he quickly pounded out commands on the keyboard. The supercomputers in Area 51's laboratories were the state-of-the-art, top-of-the-line models which were capable of running through almost any simulated scenario you could think of. Buried deep within the mainframe, however, was the NID's Area 51 files, which only a select few people on the face of the Earth could access. It was hidden within one of the many hard drives, hidden from the rest of the computer and oversight alike, the only access available through a carefully concealed and password protected access. If the wrong pass was entered, it would automatically fry the contents of the spare internal hard drive on which the files were stored.

What was angering him right now was that somehow, someone had compromised it. From the last time of recorded access, it had been opened and copied onto another medium, and from the records it looked like a DVD image. Other files had been copied as well, the R&D files for energy weapons, schematics for the X-301, and proposed X-302 and 303 projects. Maybourne was going to be pissed off when he found out.

The list of suspects was rather short. The files had been accessed twelve hours ago, so it was after the FOX-HOUND members had taken over the base, but before they officially turned terrorist. Thus while it was possible a researcher had stumbled across it and gathered dirt, as unlikely as that was with the security measures, more likely one of the FOX-HOUND members copied it because he knew exactly where to look. Unfortunately, Makepeace had no idea which one of the six would know.

Quickly shutting down the computer, he gathered his thoughts. The SGC's troops were outnumbered and outgunned at the moment, and from the lack of radio activity, it seemed his team was the only one alive or uncaptured right now. Nodding to himself, he called out. "Alright people, gather up!"

Snake, Faith, and the rest of SG-2 and SG-4 gathered around him. Looking each of them in the eye, Makepeace spoke quietly. "I won't lie to you, any of you. We're in deep shit right now. The other teams haven't checked in, so right now we're the only ones who have a chance at stopping Metal Gear. We'll have to move fast. Forget about taking the communications tower, we'll move around it to reach the hangar. Our priority is to safeguard the hostages and take out that nuclear nightmare. SG-4, you'll take care of the hostages. Make sure they're not hurt, and keep them safe. SG-2, we'll head on out. We haven't any choice, so I'm going to need all of you to keep your heads down and move fast."

Five minutes later, Snake moved at the head of the group, holding his rifle carefully. He could feel it, sheer nervousness running down his muscles as they moved around the outskirts of the base. The situation felt all wrong, and he had the sense he was being watched. As they carefully walked out a door, into an open, sandy field at the base of the communications tower, his instincts went into overdrive.

A loud rumbling confirmed his paranoia as an M1 tank rolled out from around the corner of the tower. The main gun swung in their direction. He dove to the side, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Fall back, fall back!" Their training automatically took over, and Faith and the rest of SG-2 ran back into the building. A second later, the gun went off, launching a shell forward at extreme velocity. The sound was beyond noise as it struck the building, and Snake was deafened as the entrance shattered under the sheer explosive power of the round.

Looking up fearfully from his position on the ground, the gun slowly lowered to point directly at him. With his instinct flaring again, he rolled to the side, grabbing a grenade off his belt and threw it forward. His quick aim was true, and almost miraculous as it went up the barrel of the gun. A moment later, it exploded, rocking the tank, a trail of smoke coming from the top.

His ears were ringing. He climbed to his feet, grimacing as the tank's hatch opened and an absolutely huge man climbed out the top, coughing hard from the smoke in his lungs. He had to be at least eight feet tall and heavily muscled, his dark skin covered with the tattoos of ravens. Vulcan Raven.

The huge man snarled. "Not bad, Snake! For one who crawls on the ground, you fight well." Sliding himself back into the tank and sealing the hatch, the huge man's voice echoed through a speaker. "Come, let's fight!"

Snake ran forward, toward the tank. The machine moved very quickly compared to the lone man, however he knew that in close quarters, he would be more maneuverable. As long as he got close enough that the side guns would have trouble drawing a bead on him, in any case. With a rumbling roar, the tank backed away from Snake, turning the head toward him, trying to line up the main gun. Quickly reversing his approach, he came alongside the tank as the main gun let out its burst of fire, the shell destroying a concrete wall. A hideous grinding noise issued from the base of the gun, a testament to the damage the previous grenade caused.

Pulling a grenade, he mechanically pulled the pin and threw the deadly egg into the tank's path as the machine tried to turn toward him, the driver clearly intending to crush him under the treads. With a muffled explosion, the grenade heavily damaged the treads, and the machine ground hot sand between its gears. A roar of rage came over the speaker, and Snake took the opportunity to jump on top of the grinding, damaged machine. Knowing the hatch was sealed from the inside, he readied another grenade.

The seconds ticked by quickly. The tank's head turned, trying to dislodge him from the top, but he held fast. Finally, he dropped the grenade in front of the tank's intact tread, and with another muffled explosion, the war machine was held fast in place. Rolling off the tank's head, he pulled his last grenade, and as the head turned toward him once more, he threw it down the barrel of the main gun. Acting on instinct, he ran away quickly, and the last muffled explosion reached his ringing ears as the grenade went off. A large streak of smoke rose into the air from the tank, and the machine's grinding engine slowly died.

Taking a deep breath, he strode away from the tank, gasping for breath. He touched his radio, and frowned. Taking it off his belt, he grimaced. A piece of shrapnel had neatly destroyed the device. In a way, he was lucky. If it hadn't struck his radio, it would have sliced deeply into his back.

He strode into the communications tower, his other options cut off. Hopefully he would find a way to either rejoin the team or get to Metal Gear's hangar on his own.

A minute after he left, Vulcan Raven slowly climbed out of the destroyed tank. With a grimace, he took out his radio. "Well boss, I hope you are happy. He's in the tower."

"_We'll play with him a little longer."_ Liquid's cultured voice came over the radio.

"You would be wise not to underestimate him." Raven spoke, letting out a long, labored cough as he tried to expel the smoke from his lungs.

"_What did you think of him?"_

"He is just as you said. In battle, he is as if possessed by a demon. Much like you. I would expect no less."

Liquid snorted. _"Considering his reputation, I'm not surprised. However, we control the situation here. There's only one way he can go, and he won't be able to respond to the next challenge. Did you at least manage to get the team he was with?"_

"I would be surprised if they survived, boss. Best to send a team to make sure, for I cannot reach them from here." Raven replied.

"_We'll deal with that, then. I think it's time I had a little chat with Colonel Jack O'Neill."_

In case you're wondering, the grenades went off inside the barrel, not inside the tank itself. The damage was enough to take the tank out of commission, but not enough to actually kill the driver or gunners. Wouldn't be pleasant, though.

That's it for now, folks. I hope you're having fun. Let me know what you think.


End file.
